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<title>The expedition of my violent love by Moonfreckle (Sunfreckle), PippinTheRenegade</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098188">The expedition of my violent love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Moonfreckle'>Moonfreckle (Sunfreckle)</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PippinTheRenegade/pseuds/PippinTheRenegade'>PippinTheRenegade</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Jehanparnasse in the background, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Other, Patron-Minette - Freeform, Trans Montparnasse, Werewolves, nonbinary fauntleroy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:28:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>63,172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Moonfreckle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PippinTheRenegade/pseuds/PippinTheRenegade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Claquesous knows he can’t keep lying to Fauntleroy. But nothing good can come of telling them. There are only two possible outcomes. Either it scares them off, which will lose the Patron-Minette the most valuable addition they’ve gained in years and rip someone out of his life that he is desperately fighting not to depend on too much.<br/>Or they’ll accept it, which would mean losing the last bit of distance he’s been able to preserve between them for their own protection.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Babet &amp; Claquesous, Claquesous &amp; Gueulemer (Les Misérables), Claquesous &amp; Montparnasse (Les Misérables), Claquesous/Fauntleroy (Les Misérables), Fauntleroy &amp; Montparnasse (Les Misérables)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Listen, we both love werewolf romances, that's all there is to it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a risk, but at this point their entire life was a risk. Fauntleroy had promised themself no more hiding. No more being afraid of the dark. The only way to do that was to know you ruled the dark. And in Paris it was the Patron-Minette who were in possession of the night. If they were going to get what they wanted, working with them was an inevitability. It wasn’t even the lesser evil; it was their primary goal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is why they can’t back down now. It took them months to get to this point. Weeks of playing look-out from the nearby flower shop to finally get the opportunity to prove themself to these people. So they’re going to make it count.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re not supposed to fight. They’re supposed to sound the alarm and get out of the way. But the old one, Babet, had assured them there was only one guard this time, and right now Fauntleroy finds themself staring at the approaching forms of at least five. Babet only has two of his men with him. Even with a warning they won’t be prepared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their knife is in their hand the same moment they call out the agreed upon signal, and then they run. In the opposite direction of where they were ordered to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fight is nothing more than a blur of instinct and movement. But Fauntleroy’s heart is pounding, and their mind is </span>
  <em>
    <span>singing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Because they are faster than anything coming at them and they are fighting side by side with people others only dare to speak of in whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, in a split second of searing pain, everything goes black.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next thing they’re aware of is their hands pressing against the cold ground, but they must not be truly awake. Because they hear something unreal, like a monstrous growl, coming out of nowhere and then suddenly moving right above them. But instead of more pain, the harsh pressure pinning them down suddenly lifts off their back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a faraway distance, someone screams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The growling voice is back, but it isn’t growling now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Bouquetière!” There is a demanding sound of snapping fingers uncomfortably close to their ear. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fauntleroy</span>
  </em>
  <span>—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warm hands are turning their face upward and Fauntleroy groans with the discomfort of it. How does he know their name?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are they conscious?” That’s Babet’s voice, gruff and tense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy tries to open their eyes. They don’t recognise that voice, and they need to know who this is. Their eyes tell them nothing, though. All they see is light that stings them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to go,” a third voice calls out and Fauntleroy does know that one. That sounds like the pretty boy with the green eyes. Does that mean...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Conscious enough,” Babet decides somewhere above them and the light blinks off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not leaving them,” the other voice bites. They still can’t see, but he must be the handsome dark one with the sunglasses. The one of the three that never spoke. “Not after they—" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Course we’re fucking not,” Babet snaps. “Now get a bloody move on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment they feel themself being lifted up off the ground the fight returns to Fauntleroy’s limbs. Someone is moving them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone is touching them</span>
  </em>
  <span>- But the person hauling them up into his arms is too strong to fight, and they have barely lifted their head before a wave of nausea nearly pulls them under. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy,” the no longer growling voice hushes. Faunteroy can feel themself move with every step he takes. He’s carrying them as if it’s no effort at all. “We’re in a hurry, and you can’t walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy blinks, but their vision still swims. As they put their head down in resignation they hear something faint and rhythmic. It must be the beat of his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out cold, are they?” That's the pretty boy again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In and out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never seen you so quick to rescue someone, Sous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty sure they were the one that rescued </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little further off, there is the sound of a car door opening, and for just a second Fauntleroy manages to force their eyes to focus. The one that’s carrying them - ...Sous - he really is the one with the sunglasses. Because when they lift their head he’s looking down at them just over the edge of them, and his eyes - stark against his dark complexion - are a brilliant amber-gold.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>a fencing hand-off,” Babet says sternly. “I want you in and out within fifteen minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy bristles silently, but they keep their mouth shut. This is the first actual job he is letting them take the lead on; mouthing off won’t do them any good. Beside them, Claquesous listens with straight-faced neutrality, as he always does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Babet concludes, sucking air in through his teeth. “In you go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous moves with his usual efficient quickness, but he does linger to hold the car door open for them. Fauntleroy follows him out, walking half a step faster to keep up with his long strides, and their eyes fixed on their destination with faintly resentful concentration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that stomping for?” Claquesous hums at them when they’re far enough away from the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> stomping.” Of course he’d notice. He always notices. They haven’t known Sous long at all, not really, and Fauntleroy can still think of precious few people they feel easier understood by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” He glances sideways at them for a moment, but the pace of his steps remains unbroken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy doesn’t look back at him. “Just—” they mutter. “He’s briefed us already, Gueul confirmed that they just arrived, what does he think I’m gonna mess up?” They wouldn’t be here if he didn’t trust them, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous makes a soft breathing noise that sounds almost amused. “Who says that was meant for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now they do look up at him. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The guy we’re dealing with,” Claquesous says measuredly. “I don’t like him.” One corner of his mouth quirks up for a second. “Suppose Babet’s reminding me to stick to the script.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His script,” Fauntleroy snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always his script.” Claquesous reaches into the pocket of his coat and fumbles for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Fauntleroy asks, lowering their voice some more now they’re nearly at the building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t find my glasses,” he grunts, clearly displeased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy slows their step. It’s long after dark, really no need for sunglasses anymore, but they know Claquesous likes to wear them anyway. For whatever reason. In the months they’ve been working with him they have only seen him at a job </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> sunglasses twice. Their eyes dart to the dark building up ahead and then back to him. “Do you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine.” He gives a short nod towards the warehouse door to spur them on. “Let’s just get this over with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they walk into the warehouse it takes Fauntleroy all of thirty seconds to know which of the two men Sous has a problem with. He looks at them funny, letting his eyes linger on points they have no business being, and he sneers at Claquesous with every word. Claquesous addresses him as Panchaud, and the contempt is clearly audible in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s obvious Panchaud hears it, too, and equally clear that he enjoys it. He has barely shut up from the moment they stepped through the door. Fauntleroy doesn’t listen to him though, they’re watching him. Him and his lackey. Claquesous meanwhile is checking the contents of the crate Panchaud brought for them with cold efficiency.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is your latest addition then?” Panchaud jeers, eyeing Fauntleroy up and down again. “They do keep getting younger, don’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy doesn’t appreciate the fact that he’s talking over their head one bit, but Sous has been ignoring all his attempts to get a rise out of him and they suppose they should, too. Panchaud must be a damn good fence to be worth putting up with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you been put up in one of their houses then?” Panchaud asks, suddenly speaking to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy makes a rather disinterested noise that might be taken as a confirmation. He’s not quite right, of course; they’ve been given their own room in Babet’s large town house recently. But the Patron-Minette have many bases of operation, and no one needs to know where they sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panchaud grins, glancing down at where Claqueous is closing the crate. “Is there a system to work out who gets to stay at the big house?” he asks. His sneer widens. “Babet and his boys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lid of the crate suddenly creaks viciously under Sous' hands, and he turns his head away so abruptly that Faun makes an earnest effort to catch his eye. They don’t, but they do manage to look into his face and for just a second they are sure his dark eyes have gone a bright, </span>
  <em>
    <span>furious</span>
  </em>
  <span> yellow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy freezes, hairs on the back of their neck standing on end. But a second later Claquesous draws himself upright again and he says gruffly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be on your way then. You will hear from Babet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Panchaud makes any sort of answer, Fauntleroy doesn’t hear it. Their heart is racing, but they force the spike of bewilderment down. They can’t use that now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous has picked up the crate like it weighs nothing and he’s clearly eager to leave, so Fauntleroy follows his lead. They do not quite turn their back on Panchaud though, and, for all his attitude, he is no longer smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a genuine relief to step out into the cold night, but Sous has an odd, stiff expression on his face that silences the burning question on Fauntleroy’s tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what they saw. They’re sure of it. And somewhere, in a dim, foggy part of their brain, something that feels awfully like a memory is stirring frantically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in the car they steal a glance at Sous’ face, but there’s nothing unusual about it anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No snags?” Babet asks, putting the car into gear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets no reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Faun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” they start. “No, nothing.” They look up towards the rear-view mirror. “I fucking hate Panchaud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet makes an exasperated sound. “Too bad,” he grunts. “He’s useful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Claquesous’ expression relaxes fraction with a hint of amusement, and that is all they wanted. Some primal, cautious part of them feels a pressing need to relax him, to counteract whatever just happened in that warehouse. But their curiosity is stronger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It usually is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They know better than to bother Babet just after a job, but they catch him sitting down with his stack of newspapers a little later that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up and waves them in from where they’re lingering on the doorstep. “What is it, Faun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy closes the door behind them. “In the warehouse…” they begin slowly. “Sous—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet’s face falls. “What did he do?” he groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing!” Fauntleroy says, nearly indignant on his behalf. “He just… Something happened to him, his eyes went…yellow.” That doesn’t even begin to describe what happened, but they don’t know how to put their other feelings about it into words. And even so, the moment they say it they feel that tugging at the corners of their mind again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet’s face goes blank so instantly that it’s as if he just flipped a switch. “He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he forgot them,” they answer, suspicion flaring up. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet mutters an annoyed curse under his breath and abruptly shakes his head. “Never mind why, it won’t happen again. Leave it be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stare at him in disbelief. Surely he doesn’t think that is going to work. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Babet</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Leave it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Fauntleroy.” He grabs a newspaper off the pile with defensive decidedness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy bristles and turns on their heels. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>ridiculous</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Obviously something’s the matter with Sous. Something Babet wants him to hide. But he hadn’t been surprised, not at all. So it just needs to be hidden from outsiders, like Panchaud. They remember the way Sous turned away from him just before it happened… </span>
  <em>
    <span>They</span>
  </em>
  <span> aren’t an outsider. If this is something to be concerned about, they should know! They catch their own reflection in the mirror in the hallway – bright-eyed with anger – and stop for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe— Maybe they’re being too hasty. Babet knows things about all of them that none of the others know. He’s the oldest, he’s their medic, he’s, well, he’s Babet. Perhaps they’re being unfair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...they should try to find out if Parnasse knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Montparnasse returns home, there is a smell of herbs clinging to him. He smells like that more and more often lately. Fauntleroy hadn’t quite been able to put their finger on it until Sous pointed it out to them, but now it’s very hard to miss. Parnasse’s new favourite must have a special preference for fresh herbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Had a good night, I see,” they greet him. His clothes are disheveled and, when it comes to Montparnasse, that is </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>significant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better than you, clearly,” he snarks, looking them up and down. “You look sour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They balk internally but arguing would only prove his point. “I was doing that pick-up with Sous tonight,” they say after a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right,” he hums distractedly, fussing with his coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something weird happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s enough to get his attention at least. His green eyes dart inquiringly to their face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He got...angry.” That must have been it, why he moved so suddenly and grabbed the crate so hard. “And his eyes changed colour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The immediate nonchalance of Montparnasse’s demeanour is jarring. “Oh yeah,” he says, turning his back on them to carefully hang up his fine coat. “He does that sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>does that sometimes?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” All the indignation from before is flooding back. Parnasse </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He knows and he also doesn’t want to tell them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he says and his quasi-indifference is making everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>much worse. “It's... I dunno. Some kind of quirk."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This isn't a fun little personality thing!" Fauntleroy protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Could be."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No it couldn't!” Something flashes at the back of their mind. Golden eyes glancing over dark glasses… They double down on their conviction. “People's eyes don't </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>that!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse sniffs at them. "And I thought people didn't mix pastels with neons and yet here we are."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves past them with a smirk before Fauntleroy can even reply, and the fact that they let that insult go unanswered is nearly enough to distract them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Babet knows and Parnasse knows. Then it isn’t a secret. Not really. And it’s real. They didn’t imagine it; that, at least, the two of them confirmed for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy takes a deep breath and thinks of the expression on Claquesous face when he found out he didn’t have his sunglasses. For a moment their mind wavers, and then they march straight up to Sous’ room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows it’s them even before the footsteps approach his door. Claquesous sits upright, waiting for their knock. They took longer to come see him than he had thought, but of course they came. They saw. He wasn’t fast enough in looking away. Too concerned about Panchaud noticing to protect them also. Well, now he has to deal with the consequences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s their knock, soft, and easily mistaken for polite instead of cautious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s open,” he replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy rarely opens doors fully, they have a habit of slipping inside and quickly closing them again behind them. Claquesous watches them enter with his nerves kept carefully in check. Faun looks at him, clearly trying to gauge his mood. He looks back at them with practiced neutrality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was wondering- about tonight…” They slowly approach where he’s trying to stay seated on his chair in a relaxed fashion. Why don’t they just get it over with?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wondering what?” he asks stiffly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hold still, standing a pace or two away, looking at him with a nearly challenging expression. “Your eyes—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks back at them silently, heart pushing against his ribcage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...thought I saw your eyes change.” The defiance is waning, giving way to something more uncertain. “...I wanted to know if you were okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a lot of effort to keep in his sigh of relief. They don’t know. They don’t know more than what they saw. “I’m fine,” he says. “There’s no need to worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy frowns, minutely, but it’s there. “Is that why you wear sunglasses?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a noncommittal noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why- Why did that happen to you?” It’s an honest question, no hidden expectations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter why. It doesn't concern you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hurt that flashes in Faun’s eyes affects him far too much. It’s the surprise that does it. They expect differently from him. That just goes to show he hasn’t been careful enough around them. He has allowed them to get too close to him. They’ve come to expect more of him than this. They shouldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't need to know,” he says curtly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something shifts in their demeanour. "I think I do,” they reply. “If I'm going to be part of this... If I'm supposed to be watching your back- I do need to know. So I know what I'm getting into."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing. They aren’t getting into anything. That’s exactly it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t affect you,” he says gravely. “I will make sure of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drop it, Faun.” He turns away from them before they can meet his eyes again. He can’t look at them right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their silence is deafening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don't even slam the door when they leave, they leave it ajar, as if they're trying not to make a sound. Somehow that feels much worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy retreats to their room very slowly, thoughts storming in their head. The hurt twisting in their chest is slowly knotting into something else. Something’s not right. They don’t know what, and clearly they’re not allowed to know. But something is wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, word on the street is that there are all kinds of things wrong with Patron-Minette. Godless dabblers in the occult. Monsters. Faceless assassins…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shut their door behind them with a thump. It’s all bullshit. It’d be easy, wouldn’t it, if they were all demonic spawn from hell. But they’re not. They’re clever and quick and better at what they do than anyone else roaming these streets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they took them in. Fauntleroy bites their lip. They took them in and Claquesous… They </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>Claquesous. He’s different. He understands them, they can tell. Even when he doesn’t say a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he has always cared. Even when he doesn’t show it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has cared ever since- ever since that first night...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claquesous is glad to find Faun in the living room when he gets home the following day. Having to go to their room would have been weird. This way there’s no need for excuses. He simply sits down near them on the couch and puts the bag of take-out on the battered coffee table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy gives him a silent, sideways glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like Korean, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little early for dinner, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits back with a slight shrug. “We could wait. Gueul will probably eat everything when he finds it, though.” He has no problem with eating now </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>later. Full moon is getting closer, he’ll only be getting hungrier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy laughs softly and reaches out to pull the bag towards them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hides a smile when they immediately dig out the container with mandu. So he remembered that right, they always seem to enjoy dumpling-like dishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look up at him, the open container cradled in their hands. “I do like Korean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a mandu when they offer him the container, but he waits for them to take a bite before he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faun lets out a pleased hum, and he relaxes a little further beside them. They know what he’s trying to do, surely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow he always seems to do this. Perhaps they’ve never realised it so clearly before, but he does. He lets them get close and then he suddenly pushes them away. And then...he does something like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They eat together in companionable silence and Fauntleroy tries to let the knowledge of what this means to him warm them up inside. They’re not...fully sure what it means to him, but they still know it means something. Something good. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This house is probably the safest Fauntleroy has ever slept in. Maybe that’s why they sleep so soundly here. Soundly and deeply, albeit usually not exactly during the night. Tonight is an exception, on both counts. They actually went to bed early, with no work or even hobbies to keep them up late, and they are not sleeping well at all. Their dreams are disturbingly quiet, but full of shapes just beyond their grasp and comprehension. It’s confusing and disoriënting and Fauntleroy is sure - very sure - that they are not alone here. Not alone in this threatening silence that is biding their time to—</p><p>Fauntleroy’s eyes fly open and they kick at their blankets in a sudden reflex. They blink confusedly at the sudden light. Wait, light? A silver strip of moonlight is shining directly into their face through a gap in the curtains. They sit up groggily. It is almost as bright as day outside…</p><p>Was it the light that woke them? They stare at the streaming silver spilling across their bed, drowsily mesmerized. Was there not something else…?</p><p>A sudden noise splits the silence and Faun sits bolt upright in bed. </p><p>They can’t be sure what it was. Whether it was something falling or something breaking or...someone crashing into something. But it was <em> loud </em>and it was either inside the house or very—</p><p>Another loud bang crashes in the dark and two beats later Faun is out of bed and out the door. Their bare feet make no sound on the hallway floor, but they can hear their own breathing. It came from downstairs.</p><p>The house is silent again and Faun tries not to carry their knife too much at the ready as they slip down the stairs. It’s probably nothing. Or rather, it’s probably one of the guys doing...something. They shouldn’t overreact. But…</p><p>It’s quiet downstairs. Quiet and dark and nothing out of the ordinary. Fauntleroy stands in the dark hallway, suspicion still shaking wildly in their limbs. What <em> was </em>that? They hold their breath and listen.</p><p>They nearly jump out of their skin when the basement door opens down the hallway.</p><p>“Babet!”</p><p>Babet freezes for just a second. “I thought you went to bed,” he grunts, closing the door behind him.</p><p>Fauntleroy’s eyes flit to the door and then back to his face. “What was that noise?”</p><p>“Nothing important, go back to bed.”</p><p>Like hell they will. “Babet, what are you doing in the basement,” they say flatly.</p><p>“Faun.” He suddenly sounds very tired. “This would all be a lot easier if you just trusted me and minded your own damn business.”</p><p>Fauntleroy feels a cold weight settle in their stomach. “...where is Sous?”</p><p>Babet snorts. “Asleep, if he has any sense.” He moves past them, but he won’t meet their eyes and Fauntleroy’s ears are full of angry static.</p><p>They stand there in the dark for a very long time, but everything stays quiet. Once they consider opening the basement door, but in the end all they do is turn on their heels and go back upstairs. They hesitate at Sous door, they even knock, but there’s no answer.</p><p>They have to force themself to go back to bed and they only manage because of one thing: they’ve decided this has gone too far. They know this has something to do with Sous and tomorrow they’re going to ask him why. This time they won’t let him turn them away. He will not try to treat them like a child like Babet does and they <em> will </em>get an answer.</p><p>---</p><p>This was a bad night. Claquesous locks himself in his room as soon as he’s able to walk there on his own. All his muscles are sore and his limbs are still crying out with every movement. He knows better than to let himself collapse on his bed like he wants to and lowers himself down with care. This will pass, it always does, but right now he’d give just about anything to be able sleep.</p><p>He isn’t asleep when the sound at the door disturbs him. His eyes are closed and his thoughts mostly senseless, but he isn’t really gone. He stays silent though, absolutely unwilling to answer, whoever it is, but then there’s a knock at the door.</p><p>“I know you’re in there.”</p><p>It’s Faun. Of course it is. He swallows. “Well come in then.”</p><p>He does his level best to sound normal and when the door opens he makes sure not to move, not to give his face any cause for involuntary flinching. </p><p>It doesn’t make much of a difference.</p><p>Fauntleroy stops in their tracks two steps into the room, their eyes suddenly wide. “What the fuck happened to you?”</p><p>He doesn’t answer.</p><p>A grim line that he doesn’t think he has ever seen before appears around their mouth. “Where were you last night?”</p><p>“Busy,” he replies evenly.</p><p>“You sure look it.” Something about Fauntleroy’s voice is just a touch off. It’s not cold, nor hurt like before. This sounds more like anger. They take in a short little breath. “What <em> happened </em>, Sous?”</p><p>He looks them straight into their eyes. “Work.”</p><p>One moment Fauntleroy is standing in the middle of the room, the next they’re at his bedside, practically bristling. “Let me see your hands,” they order and he’s so taken by surprise that he actually obeys.</p><p>His bruised fingers and knuckles stand out starkly like this and before he has pulled himself together enough to stop them Faun moves the loose cuffs of his pyjama shirt further up his arm. Their breath hitches and Claquesous clenches his teeth. Fauntleroy knows what kind of marks handcuffs leave.</p><p>“<em>Work? </em>” they repeat and there’s a single shimmer of fear in the anger when they meet his eyes.</p><p>Claquesous looks back at them in silence. The longer they stare at him the heavier the silence feels and then suddenly Fauntleroy turns on their heels and storms out of the room.</p><p>A coil of misery wraps around Claquesous’ throat, but his grim resignation is stronger. Good. Let them be angry. Let them be hurt and insulted that he doesn’t trust them enough to tell them the truth. Let them draw whatever conclusion they want. If it makes them keep their distance at least he’ll be sure that he—</p><p>The door swings open again and Fauntleroy resolutely comes inside and closes it behind them. They’re holding a small pot of what has to be some kind of ointment.</p><p>They march up to the bed without a word and set themselves down on the edge of it like that’s something they do every day. Claquesous doesn’t stop them, he’s too shocked to.</p><p>“Right hand,” they say firmly while they screw the lid off the container. </p><p>Claquesous does hold out his hand to them, but he also wrinkles his nose. The salve smells unpleasantly strong to his sensitive nose and as soon as they dip their fingers in it gets even stronger still.</p><p>“What is that?”</p><p>“Arnica salve,” they say with a very clearly forced calmness.</p><p>He watches how they carefully take his hand in theirs. The care of their movements seems jarringly mismatched with the worried anger simmering in their expression. “Is that one of your homeopathic plant things?”</p><p>Fauntleroy’s eyes dart to his face, glaring daggers. “It helps against bruising.”</p><p>“I don’t—"</p><p>“You can tell me it’s useless nonsense <em> after </em>I’m done.”</p><p>Claquesous shuts his mouth. They sound like they’d like to slap him, but instead they are rubbing the ointment into his bruised hands and wrists with such gentle movements that he has to look away. The fact that they’re trying to tend his wounds - they’ll heal, they always do - is bad enough, but they’re touching him so <em> carefully </em>. They’re handling him with so much care and caution it’s almost unbearable.</p><p>“Right hand.” The anger in their voice is flagging and part of him feels like he should make use of that, but Claquesous has no idea what he could possibly say to make this situation better.</p><p>Fauntleroy is chewing on their bottom lip, frowning as they try not to put too much pressure on his wrist. “Is there more?” they ask suddenly.</p><p>They look up and Claquesous meets their eyes. He can see their gaze dart down to his badly buttoned shirt, but he’s pretty confident that the worst bruises will be on his back, nothing they can see.</p><p>He shakes his head.</p><p>They fix him with a stare for two long seconds but then they drop their gaze and silently rub their hands together to get rid of the excess salve. “Okay,” they say and they screw the lid back onto the pot.</p><p>“Saw Babet coming out of the basement last night,” they say, eyes still on their hands.</p><p>The tension grips Claquesous by the throat before he can steel himself for it and Faun is sitting close enough to feel it. They look up.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>Why did they go to the basement? Why did they even go <em> near </em>the basement? Did they try to go in, did Babet have to stop them? He swallows. “Nothing.” </p><p>They don’t frown or glare, they just look. “That’s what Babet said,” they say. “Nothing. Nothing important.”</p><p>“And it isn’t,” he says.</p><p>“If you say so.” They sound almost absent minded. “Hey Sous?”</p><p>“Y—<em> ow! Fuck </em>.” He swears as Faun’s hand lashes out, jabbing him in the ribs just hard enough to make his bruised rib cage sear with pain. </p><p>“You know,” Fauntleroy bites. “At the very <em> least </em>you could stop lying to me about how actually beat to a pulp you are.”</p><p>“Okay, <em> okay </em>.” He winces as he instinctually leans away from them and for a split second they look so incredibly worried that his guilt drowns out his rising panic. “You’re right, I’m hurt. But I’m going to be fine.” He makes sure they’re actually listening, looking into his eyes. “Give me a day or two and I’ll be fine.”</p><p>They immediately sit up in protest. “Sous, you’re—”</p><p>“I know. But I promise, two days tops.”</p><p>Fauntleroy opens and shuts their mouth in frustration. “Sous what the hell is going on?” Their eyes spark. “And do <em> not </em>pretend it’s work.”</p><p>Sous hesitates.</p><p>-</p><p>He still doesn’t want to tell them the truth, they can see it in his eyes. Someone or <em> something </em> hurt him bad enough to break him <em> this </em>badly and he won’t even tell them.</p><p>“It’s not work.”</p><p>They blink and look at his forcefully composed face.</p><p>“But it’s complicated.” Sous’ rarely asks for things, but there’s something very close to a pleading tone to his voice. “I can’t tell you. Not now.”</p><p>Fauntleroy shuts their mouth. He sounds...anxious. They think back to Babet, tensing at the very sight of them. Sous is just as tense. Like this isn’t about not wanting to trust them, but about needing to protect <em> him </em>. </p><p>They let out a slow breath, trying to breathe out some of the hurt anger still stuck in their throat. “Will you at least let me help you?”</p><p>The slight relaxing of his body is minute, but they still catch it. “Faun, I—" He flexes his fingers and turns his hands. “This is- I appreciate it. But I can take care of the rest myself.”</p><p>The anger immediately claws its way back in but before they have swallowed it down enough to reply Sous gives them one of his tired, crooked grins.</p><p>“What, are you going to demand I undress for you?”</p><p>A hot blush burns on their cheeks, bypassing all their anger and leaving them scrambling for composure in two ways instead of one. They’re suddenly painfully aware of the fact that they are sitting on his bed, but they don’t move away, that would feel like giving in. Besides, Sous is still looking at them.</p><p>“I meant what I said earlier. Two more days and I’ll be fine.” The grin flickers back onto his face. “You can poke me in the ribs all you want to check.”</p><p>Fauntleroy lets out a snort, exhaling through their nose, and defensively hugs their waist. “Two days.”</p><p>“Hand on my heart.”</p><p>“If you have one,” they reply disapprovingly. No matter how strong Claquesous is, and they <em> know </em> he is, he can’t just walk something like this off. <em> No one </em> can. That’s just not how the human body...works…</p><p>Something dislodged in their brain. Something linked to the way he glances at them now, the way his eyes flashed yellow bent over that crate… <em> Growling </em>-</p><p>-</p><p>A moment ago Claquesous was sure he was winning them over, but now their eyes are glazing over in a rather worrying way and he is no longer sure. He doesn’t want them to get angry again, but he has no idea what else he can tell them to convince them to let this go. And they <em> have </em>to let it go.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Claquesous blinks. “What?”</p><p>“Okay, two days.” Fauntleroy looks up at him again, their expression suddenly oddly subdued. “But you have to tell me if you do need my help.”</p><p>He breathes a private sigh of relief. “Alright, I will.”</p><p>They nod. “Fine then.” Slowly, Fauntleroy lets themself slide off the bed, getting back onto to their feet. “I should put this back,” they mutter, twisting the plastic container of arnica in their hands. They give him a sideways glance. “Do you want to be alone?”</p><p>...no. Not really. But he shouldn’t let them know that. “I could use some sleep, yeah.”</p><p>“Kay.” They give him a nearly curious look. “I’ll check on you later then.”</p><p>He nods silently and watches how they slip out of the room with a nasty sort of regret nestled in his chest. Only when they’ve closed the door and their footsteps are beyond hearing does he let himself recline fully against the cushions. He lets out a deep breath. He won’t be able to keep this up. Not for long. Not like this.They’re going to find out and when they do it’s all going to fall apart.</p><p>-</p><p>Fauntleroy makes their way to their room without seeing a single thing in the hallway. Mixed up shards of the memory of their first night truly working with the Patron-Minette rattle through their head. They’ve never been able to remember it in full. Not from the moment they got hit against the back of the head. All they remembered - and they always tried not to remember too hard - was Sous carrying them to the car. But now...</p><p>There’s a reason why they wanted to join the Patron-Minette. No one messes with the Patron-Minette. It’s the closest thing to being invulnerable, belonging to them. They had never listened to the wilder rumours on the streets. They all sounded like weak little stories dreamt up by people who couldn’t deal with the fact that they were defeated. Especially by men younger than themselves. </p><p>But...there had been whispers. Whispers that suddenly mean more than fear mongering gossip.</p><p>Still with their mind running in several directions at once, Fauntleroy grabs their phone off their bedside dresser and opens the calendar.</p><p>The moon had been bright yesterday. Bright enough to wake them.</p><p>...but had it been full?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There is a pattern to the days. Now they’re looking for it, it’s so obvious that Fauntleroy is almost exasperated with themself for not noticing it before. Especially because it explains something they’ve never understood before. The strange, sometimes hurtful changing of Sous’ mood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because there are weeks that he suddenly doesn’t want to be around them anymore. That he tenses whenever they touch him and sounds almost cold in his denials when they try to coax him into spending time with them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’ve had dark moods about his mixed signals before, wobbled wildly between frustration and regret, but now they notice more than just his behaviour to them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous gets more and more on edge, until one night his bed his empty, and he turns up the next day looking like someone kicked the shit out of him. Except it’s not just him who’s gone for the night, Gueul and Babet are usually nowhere to be found either. But then there </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>the noise from the basement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By now it all seems painfully obvious. They stopped checking the moon calendar after two months.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Babet, they're going to find out, I’m telling you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Babet puts his book down with a sigh and Claquesous feels something snarl inside of him at the way he turns his eyes to the heavens for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives him a tired look. "Why not just tell them then."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>No fucking way</span>
  </em>
  <span>." That came out more harshly than he meant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why the hell not,” Babet demands irritably. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>them. Never seen you trust anyone as fast as you did them."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous shuts his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Babet stares at him for a second. "Oh for fuck's sake."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even through all the exasperation Claquesous can see the flash of pity and he turns away from him abruptly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what this is about?” Babet catches up with him before he has reached the door. “You think they’re going to be afraid of you? You’re more likely to piss them off with your lying. Faun’s—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Faun’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Claquesous snaps, turning around to glare at him with the door at his back. This isn’t Babet’s life they’re talking about. And it’s not like he doesn’t lie to Faun just as much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Babet’s mouth is a thin line of tension. “...they’re one of us,” he says after a heavy pause.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well. I’m doing my part to keep it that way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t wait for Babet’s reply, slamming the door behind him. The full moon is weeks away still, but his temper isn’t always ruled by her phases. He knows he can’t keep lying to Fauntleroy. But nothing good can come of telling them. There are only two possible outcomes. Either it scares them off, which will lose the Patron-Minette the most valuable addition they’ve gained in years and rip someone out of his life that he is desperately fighting not to depend on too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or they’ll accept it, which would mean losing the last bit of distance he’s been able to preserve between them for their own protection.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even when he’s drunk Montparnasse is graceful. Fauntleroy is draped sideways in their chair, watching him with their head slanted so much they’re nearly looking upside down, trying to remember who or what he reminds them of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They are nearly fully lost in their thoughts, when they’re startled back into the present by someone gently taking their glass out of their hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t going to drop it,” they protest, pulling a face at Sous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmhm,” he hums, placing the glass on the side table before sitting back down in his own chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give,” they demand, holding out their hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was empty,” Claquesous says mildly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy makes a wordless noise of general disagreement and lets themself slide out of their chair and onto the rug on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Montparnasse lets out a soft laugh. “You’re a lightweight, Faun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wrinkle their nose at him in contempt and put their head down, gazing up at the ceiling. The whole world is wonderfully fuzzy. They can hear Montparnasse and Claquesous talking, but they’re not listening to the words, just the voices. Their voices sound nice. Familiar and comforting. Especially Sous’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Faun, don’t fall asleep on the floor,” Claquesous repeats. It doesn’t seem like they’re listening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Faun</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Montparnasse snaps his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their eyes open with a flash of indignation. “I’m not sleeping.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could have fooled me,” Parnasse drawls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The nearly serene expression they had on their face a moment ago is gone and Claquesous is suddenly intensely sorry for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” he mutters, getting out of his chair again and leaning over them to help them up. “Let me—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Fauntleroy stubbornly bats away his hands and treats him to a frown at well. “I can lie on the floor if I want to,” they protest. The frown darkens. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> won’t even tell me wherever the hell you go every month and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t lie on the floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Montparnasse’s lounging posture is not quite as relaxed as it was before and Claquesous scrambles for something to say, still lingering awkwardly half a step in front of his chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faun mutters something equally indistinct and indignant and suddenly scrambles back to their feet. “I’m going to bed,” they announce. They look up at him and sigh. “Siddown,” they slur, giving his chest a hard enough push to make him sit back in the chair. “I’m not mad at you. Don’t do that face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sigh again and walk out of the room, their steps not exactly unbalanced, but with the decided gait of someone walking on autopilot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Faun,” Montparnasse sing-songs after them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Night,” they yawn in reply and for a moment they stretch out their hand in the general direction where they’re sitting. As if they can conflate a wave and a wish to touch them into a single movement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next moment the living room door is closing behind them and Claquesous is left with his worries twisting up with the glass of whisky in his system.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You heard the flower child,” Montparnasse remarks lightly. “Don’t do that face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous glares, but it’s been years since that made any sort of impact on Parnasse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what I think you should do,” his friend says, reaching out to pick up his glass of wine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you should go after them </span>
  <em>
    <span>right </span>
  </em>
  <span>now, and tell them,” Montparnasse continues undisturbed. “They’re so drunk, all they’ll do is giggle at you and try to pet your hair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” he growls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Montparnasse smirks and takes a large draught of his wine. “You should tell them though,” he says, the playfulness suddenly dropping out of his voice. “Soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—” Claquesous feels like two pins are being driven into his shoulders, pressing a weight down on him. “...I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is taking all of Claquesous’ resolve to not just shut this whole conversation down before it has even begun. He has never told </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>about this. Babet and Parnasse didn’t need to be told, they were there. Babet told Gueul. No one else knows. No one else needs to know. No one else </span>
  <em>
    <span>can know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sous?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right, fuck. He forces himself to meet Faun’s slightly puzzled eyes. “...I should tell you something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wait, but he can’t get the words past his lips. “I’m—” He shuts his mouth and looks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"A werewolf?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shock squeezes his throat. “How- I mean, I..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy looks at him quietly, their expression sympathetic and slightly smiling. "You keep disappearing every full moon and turning up all banged up in the morning. You're either a werewolf or the punching bag for a highly irregular fight club. And you don't strike me as the 'punching bag' type."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shock drains away, but the tension stays. Claquesous swallows. "...right. Well. At least now you know."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faun looks at him with an odd, nervous kind of expression on their face, worrying their bottom lip with their teeth. “So it really was that, you are a werewolf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” He gets to his feet, avoiding to meet their eyes again, but to his surprise they let out a noise of protest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey! Where're you going?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a step away from the couch they are still sitting on. "I was going to give you some time to...adjust your ideas." He can’t stay and watch them work out what this means. He doesn’t want to be around when they decide what they think about him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"They really don't need any adjusting, Sous,” Fauntleroy says, looking up at him earnestly. “I've got questions though.” They place their hand beside them on the cushion of the couch. “Come sit with me for a bit?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous stares at them for a long moment before blinking out of his stupor. "...no?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their face falls. "Why not?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Because you- Wait. You really don't care?" A faint nausea born from unrealised dread and incredulous relief churns in his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why would I?” Fauntleroy asks bluntly. “You were a werewolf when I met you, and you'll keep being a werewolf whether I sit here and think by myself or not. And like I said, questions."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is not normal and he can’t trust it, but...it’s better than the alternative. Claquesous sits back down, cautiously, every fibre of his being wary. "Okay... What’s your first question?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And beyond all belief Fauntleroy bounces slightly towards him, drawing one knee up on the couch and rocking eagerly forward. "When you change, how 'wolf' are you really? Like, on a scale of 'majestic forest beast' to 'claws and way too much sideburns'?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm—" Static of pure incomprehension is crackling at the back of his mind. They’re looking at him like this is— “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Majestic forest beast</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Really?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What kind of question is that? They don’t even seem to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>unnerved</span>
  </em>
  <span> by the situation, let alone scared. They should be trying to get away from him by now! The fact that they’re not is...well. Just the thought of Faun drawing back from him makes him faintly sick to his stomach. And they’re still here, sitting right in front of him like nothing has changed. But at the same time this is the worst thing they could have possibly done. Because they </span>
  <em>
    <span>ought </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be drawing back from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And instead they’re sitting there </span>
  <em>
    <span>pulling faces</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes people just turn into really big wolves in movies. Don't judge me." The expression on their face is nearly excited. Full of fascination, but...joyful, not morbid. “So, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>you look like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous opens and closes his lips with a useless lack of sound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy is doing their level best to keep their emotions as level as possible, but they want to hug him so badly that they can’t seem to sit still. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He told them </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The full moons, the injuries, the unexplained healing. It wasn’t just their imagination. And there really was a good reason for his secrecy. But now he’s finally told them and if he could only stop looking so unhappy and just start talking everything will be easy now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sous still looks kind of like he wants to run, but it also looks like he’s making an effort to answer their question. He clears his throat uncomfortably.  “I can't really see myself,” he says, a little stiffly. “But, I just look like a wolf. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal </span>
  </em>
  <span>sized one. And I wouldn't say majestic. Feral is more like it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy looks at him in dismay. “You have no idea what you look like?" Surely he must know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I just told you,” he grunts. “I look like a bloody feral wolf. Large. Dark pelt. Does it matter?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Does it </span>
  <em>
    <span>matter</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "Yes! I want to be able to recognize you if I have to."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous gives them a very odd, heavy sort of look. "There's only one wolf in this house at any given time. I'm sure you can figure that out on your own."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy blinks, their earnest attempt at imagining what he might look like in his transformed state fading away. "Wait, you never leave the house?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous looks at them as if they just slapped him in the face. "Of course I never leave the house!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They look at him, at his tense, serious face, and remember the basement. "Oh. I'm sorry."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s still staring at them, his eyes unnaturally wide. They don’t think they have ever seen him this uneasy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I only meant it must suck to stay inside the whole night,” they say, searching for something to ease that distress of his face. They look up at him. No matter what he says, he must be a beautiful wolf. “You should be able to go outside!” they urge. “I could come along next time, and—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You absolutely will not."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even as distressed as he is, his snapping tone makes them bristle. "Why not?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Because it's dangerous!” For a moment his voice wavers dangerously in volume. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm</span>
  </em>
  <span> dangerous."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy stares into his dark eyes. What is he trying to do? Does he want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>scare </span>
  </em>
  <span>them?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know you are,” they say, turning their incredulity into a smile. He could no more scare them than he would ever hurt them. No matter how dangerous he is. “That's part of why I like you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a single second the frantic emotion seems to drain from his face and then it’s back and he’s rising abruptly to his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy follows. “Where are we going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To talk to Babet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Babet doesn’t look surprised to see them but Fauntleroy can tell he’s not quite happy with them barging in. He closes his laptop with a sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, out with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Faun has questions.” Claquesous sounds calmer than he did before, but it feels extremely forced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy really doesn’t see why Babet has to be dragged into this all of a sudden. If he didn’t want to talk about it, he couldn’t have said so, right? “I only wanted—” they begin, but Babet has already turned towards them in his chair and started talking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. I presume you want to know how it all started.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy shuts their mouth. Well… They glance sideways at Sous, but he’s staring stubbornly at a spot on the wall. They sit down on one of Babet’s crates of books. “If you don’t mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Babet tips his head back. “About six years ago I took two brats in off the street.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Piss off,” Claquesous grunts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Babet snorts. “I recruited two young upstarts. Better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sous responds with a cold silence. Fauntleroy knows he and Parnasse were only seventeen when they joined, or rather founded, the Patron-Minette. Neither of them talk a lot about that time though. It feels like they’re about to find out why.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The grin on Babet’s face fades and he shifts in his chair. “We had a good thing going. And then, a little over a year later Gueulemer came home after a job having to damn near carry him. Faint from blood loss, his left arm all torn up—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dismay twists in Fauntleroy’s stomach and they glance at Sous again. His face is completely blank, not even a flicker of emotion in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Before I knew it he was running such a high fever I thought we’d have to take him to a hospital. Which he refused,” Babet grunts. “But he pulled through...and then the first full moon came.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous isn’t exactly standing close to them, but Babet’s office is small and he’s close enough for them to feel him tense up again. Fauntleroy wishes he would let them touch him. They just want to squeeze his arm, hold his hand maybe, show him that it’s okay. But he rarely lets them get that close without either alcohol or the elation of a job well done to take the edge off him and he is all edges right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was bad,” Babet says stiffly. “I tried to help, but my expertise is in medicine. Not in occult wolf bullshit.” The lines around his mouth are thin and tight. “There was nothing I could do.” He sighs, slowly. “We found a way to manage it, worked out a system. Gueul helped. He still does, every month. And eventually...he learned how to start making use of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is just the faintest hint of a smirk on Sous’ face at that and Fauntleroy latches onto it eagerly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” they press. “How do you use it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finally looks at them again. “During the full moon I’m out of control, but once it’s over… I’m stronger, faster, heal better, and I'm harder to hurt."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They look up at him. "Is that what you did the night I joined? Make use of the wolf?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Babet goes quiet and Claquesous looks a little uneasy. "...yes." He clears his throat slightly. "Didn't think you remembered that."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I didn't, before." Fauntleroy bites their lip. They still don't remember it fully, they wish they did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It can be practical,” Sous says reservedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When he controls his temper,” Babet puts in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous gives him a dirty look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy takes in a breath. “And when you don’t...your eyes…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sous nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly,” Babet says sharply. “Which is why, after five bloody years, you’d think he’d remember his sunglasses.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You lose your sodding reading glasses three times a </span>
  <em>
    <span>day</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Claquesous retorts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>bothers no one but </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy smiles. Bickering is safe and normal. Almost comforting. “Babet, Babet,” they interrupt. “What does Sous look like, as a wolf? He says he doesn’t know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Babet shuts his mouth mid-sentence and gives them a bemused look. “...he looks like a werewolf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy makes an exasperated sound. “Yeah but </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” They sit up straight as a wonderful thought occurs to them. “Does he look different now from the way he did in the beginning?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, just, he was so much younger then. Was the wolf smaller, back then?” They look over at Sous, grinning. “You must have looked cute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cute?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Babet spits and Fauntleroy’s smile slips off their face. He’s giving them the same look Sous did when they suggested he should be allowed to go outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This why I fucking brought them,” Claquesous mutters under his breath and they don’t appreciate that at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Faun, this isn’t a plot from a movie,” Babet says sternly. “I’m- I’m glad you’re not scared. But you should take this seriously. Stay away from the basement during full moons. Don’t provoke him just before. And start wrapping your head around the fact that no matter what Sous is, the wolf is a feral monster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you done?” Fauntleroy still feels that last word sting like a slap in their face, so they can’t imagine how Sous must feel. They rise to their feet. “Cause if not maybe we can save the lectures for a day when I </span>
  <em>
    <span>haven’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>just found out that one of my best friends is a shapeshifter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Babet frowns at them for a long moment, but then he breathes out another sigh, looking away from them. “You have a temper too, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well you talk down to people,” Fauntleroy retorts firmly. “You know I don’t like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He makes a vague sound that has something apologetic about it. That will have to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take it seriously,” they say reservedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” he sighs, looking tired beyond his years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy looks at Sous, who has gone completely quiet for a good few moments. “Coming?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t answer, but he follows them out the door, a pace and a half behind them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wait until they’re at the end of the hallway to turn to face him again, but when they do, they make sure to do it abruptly enough to make him look at them and meet their eyes. He does and they were right, there is something upset in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t ask you any more questions if you don’t want me to,” they say firmly. “You don’t have to talk about anything. But—" He’s staring at them, but he’s still paying attention and that’s all they want. “—I’m not afraid of you and I never will be. I don’t care what Babet says. You’re not a monster.” They open their arms and lean forward, slowly, to give him warning. He doesn’t move, so they wrap their arms around his waist, hugging him close for as long as they think he’ll allow it. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>None</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They let go, stuffing the desire to keep holding him down, and give him one last determined look before slowly turning away again and making their way to the stairs. Sous follows, still in silence and this time three paces behind them, but that’s okay. They spoke their mind and he knows now. They both know now. That’s what matters.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning for tending wounds.<br/>Of course we are in the Patron-Minette fandom here and in very select, treasured company at that, but I thought I'd mention it anyway &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whenever there is significant activity in the kitchen, it’s bound to be either Gueul or Faun. This time Claquesous is pretty sure it’s Faun, because there’s folk music pouring out through the open door, as well as the clattering of pots and pans.</p><p>It’s odd for them to be cooking though, they are the only one’s home tonight. Faun usually saves their cooking for the nights they can coerce everyone into having what they call an actual family dinner.</p><p>He decides not to disturb them, but when he passes by the door they immediately call out to him.</p><p>“Sous!”</p><p>He stops, hesitantly, but none of this is up to him. Fauntleroy comes bouncing out of the kitchen, with stained fingers and a messy apron, and drags him inside. “Come taste the stew for a sec, I don’t know how much spice you like.”</p><p>Claquesous looks around the kitchen in confusion. “Are you planning a dinner party?”</p><p>Faun hovers over one of their simmering pots. “No, it’s just us tonight, right?”</p><p>That’s what he thought, but judging from this amount of food. “Yeah,” he hums, glancing from the large pot of stew to the bread cooling on the counter, the oven which seems to have a pot pie in it, and another large covered pan on the stove. “So how hungry are you exactly?” </p><p>Fauntleroy turns around, their eyes seemingly twice as blue now they’ve dyed their hair in a similar shade again. “I thought <em> you’d </em>be hungry,” they say earnestly. “It’s nearly full moon!” </p><p>Claquesous shuts his mouth.</p><p>“And,” they mumble, turning back to the stove. “Babet wants me out on a job tomorrow, so I can’t cook for you then… This is enough for leftovers.” They glance back at you again. “Aren’t you super hungry after transforming? That sounds like it should be a thing.”</p><p>They’re trying to take care of him. He tells them he’s a monster and their first reaction is to hug him and the second to make him food. But before he can even begin to formulate any sort of reaction, there it is. Sudden and unwelcome and vivid. A voice without real words that manages to make itself understood all the same.</p><p>
  <em> good </em>
</p><p>Claquesous takes in a breath. Usually when this happens he gets the hell away from everyone until he has drowned the wolf out again. He can’t do that now though. Not with Faun looking at him like that.</p><p>He sits down at the kitchen table, trying not to listen to the most familiar voice in his head except his own.</p><p>“You didn’t need to go through all that trouble, Bouquetière.”</p><p>
  <em> kind</em>
</p><p>“Thanks though.”</p><p>Fauntleroy looks a little less uncertain and a little more content. “Is it not like that then?” they ask, taking a spoonful of the stew and letting it cool. “You’re not extra hungry?”</p><p>
  <em> food </em>
</p><p>Claquesous clears his throat uncomfortably. “I am, but eating too much has adverse effects.” </p><p>Eating too much gives the wolf too much strength. </p><p>“Hm,” Fauntleroy hums. “But if you go into your transformation hungry, then you’ll still be hungry as a wolf. Surely that’s not what you want.”</p><p>“...I don’t care what it wants.”</p><p>They frown at him slightly, but don’t argue. Instead they hold the spoon out to him. “Taste.”</p><p>Fauntleroy’s cooking has never been anything but good. He just hates that the wolf thinks so too. He swallows. “Perfect.”</p><p>Their smile brightens up the entirety of their face like a light. “Good!” They return to the stove. “And even if you don’t want to eat more,” they decide. “You should at least eat <em> well </em>.”</p><p>Claquesous can’t quite stop his smile. “Whatever you say, Faun.”</p><p>
  <b> <em>Faun</em> </b>
</p><p>The smile cools on his face, dread settling in his stomach, but he makes sure is expression is back under control when Faun sits down across from him. They smile at him, full of trust and openness, he’s not going to let the beast take that away from him.</p><p>---</p><p>“I could have made it,” Fauntleroy grouches.</p><p>“Sure you could.” Gueulemer looks smug and they resent him for it.</p><p>“I <em> would </em>have made it.” They’re limping slightly and they know they’ve torn a considerable hole in the left knee of their trousers, which sucks. They really liked these jeans.</p><p>They push past Gueul when he opens the front door and stomp into the living room, following the sound of Babet’s voice.</p><p>“Babet—" they begin.</p><p>Babet looks up and makes an exasperated sound. “What the hell is this?”</p><p>Beside him Claquesous is staring at them with an expression of shock that is kind of uncalled for.</p><p>“They decided to jump off a roof and couldn’t stick the landing,” Gueulemer announces behind them, still smug.</p><p>Fauntelroy looks back to glare at him.</p><p>“You mean you dared them to jump off a roof,” Babet grunts.</p><p>Gueul’s grin fades.</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Babet sighs and he drags himself to his feet, walking over to one of the closets where he keeps one of his many medkits. “You should know better by now.”</p><p>Yeah, just what they need, a lecture. “I made the jump,” Fauntleroy grumbles. “There were leaves on the ground.”</p><p>-</p><p>They’re bleeding. He can<em> smell the blood </em> , they’re <em> bleeding </em>.</p><p>Claquesous breathes through the sudden burst of frantic tension raging through his body. It’s fine. They’re fine. He has seen them hurt way worse than this. This is a ridiculous overreaction. It’s just a scrape.</p><p>But it’s the fucking worst thing in the world.</p><p>Babet makes Faun sit down so he can look at their leg and that brings them way too close. The moment Claquesous gets up to put some distance between them, however, he’s there.</p><p>
  <em> hurt </em>
</p><p>
  <em> blood </em>
</p><p>Claquesous takes a forceful step backwards. He does not need this now.</p><p>He tries to control his breathing, but something he does makes Babet look up all the same. His pale eyes flit back and forth between Faun’s bloody knee and Claquesous’ face, but Claquesous does not have attention to spare for him.</p><p><em> Faun! Faun! </em> <b> <em>hurt</em> </b></p><p>Claquesous abruptly turns away.</p><p>-</p><p>Fauntleroy peers up at Claquesous concernedly, past Babet’s bent head. What’s he doing?</p><p>“Well,” Babet mutters, pulling at the fabric of their jeans and making them wince. “You got that right up in there.” </p><p>“Yeah rub it in, why don’t you,” they grumble. “This is one of my favourite pairs and now it’s ruined.” </p><p>“You’re also bleeding quite a bit,” Babet says dryly.</p><p>They make an impatient noise, but behind him Claquesous has started pacing through the room. Gueulemer is still standing in the doorway and he seems to have noticed too.</p><p>“Dude, what’s with the—"</p><p>Fauntleroy sees a glint of steel in Babet’s hand and cries out in dismay. “What the hell are you doing!” He’s holding <em> scissors </em>. </p><p>-</p><p>Claquesous nearly jumped out of his skin when they yelled. Or rather, the wolf jumped, it jumped and he barely managed to rein it in. He should get out of here, but-</p><p>
  <em> Faun Faun Faun </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>stay</em> </b>
</p><p>Fucking hell. And Faun is still yelling.</p><p>“You’re not gonna <em> cut it off me </em>.” </p><p>“I thought you said it was ruined!”</p><p>“Not <em> that </em>ruined.” </p><p>Claquesous can just see the look of utter indignation on their face and then, without any fucking warning, they suddenly get to their feet and start to undress.</p><p>-</p><p>Struggling out of their rather tight jeans with one leg temporarily sort of out of commission is not very dignified, but if it means maybe salvaging the pants instead of Babet hacking them off uneven with bandage scissors it’s worth it to just grit their teeth and get through it. Fauntleroy sits down heavily in the chair again, meeting Babet’s irritated expression with a defiant look. </p><p>He rolls his eyes and lifts up their leg for better access.</p><p>Fauntleroy looks away from the blood and dirt on their skin and finds Claquesous standing on the other end of the room, not looking at anything in particular, but moving his head in a very strange way.</p><p>“Sous?”</p><p>He makes an odd grunting noise that is barely an acknowledgement. </p><p>“Sous what’s wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>Fauntleroy frowns. What’s gotten into him? "Sous. Sous, look at me."</p><p>"Absolutely not."</p><p>Still bent over their knee, Babet makes a nondescript sound and Fauntleroy blinks in surprise. Is Sous anxious about them?</p><p>-</p><p>
  <em> closer </em>
</p><p>‘Absolutely not.’</p><p>Oh great, now he’s talking to it again. Claquesous clenches his teeth and tries not to look at Faun again. Why doesn't Babet hurry <em> up </em>. The smell of the blood is choking him.</p><p>Fauntleroy is still trying to catch his attention. “I’m fine sous.”</p><p>
  <em> h u r t </em>
</p><p>‘Shut up.’</p><p>“I'm not hurt that bad. It's just a scrape."</p><p>"You were <em> limping </em>," he snaps and Fauntleroy blinks at him in surprise.</p><p>Fuck, he’s looking at them.</p><p>"Instinct,” Fauntleroy answers, still visibly surprised.</p><p>The wolf whines inside of him. "And bleeding,” he says stiffly.</p><p>"Only a little."</p><p>-</p><p>He’s genuinely worried about them. About a little scrape. He really is. Something about that is making Fauntleroy’s heart beat just a little faster, but it’s also bad, because he looks really unhappy right now and they don’t want that.</p><p>It’s also bad because they shouldn't start seeing things that aren’t there. Because even if—</p><p>They don’t get to finish that thought, because at that moment Babet presses a cloth with disinfectant against their knee.</p><p>“Mother<em> fucker </em>.”</p><p>-</p><p>Claquesous whines. He could hear the sound escape his own mouth, powerless to stop it, and he’s fucking furious about it.</p><p>But that, finally, is enough to make Gueulemer step into the room.</p><p>As soon as he’s close enough, his large frame between him and Faun, the wolf shuts up, and Claquesous breathes.</p><p>“Moon bothering you?” Gueul mutters under his breath.</p><p>Claquesous nods.</p><p>“Want to get out of here?”</p><p>Yes. And absolutely not. He shakes his head.</p><p>Gueulemer looks confused, but he doesn’t argue. He just stays put. Which is good enough for now. Because Faun has stopped swearing and whimpering and is now just sulking while Babet cleans their wound, the smell of disinfectant replacing that of blood. They’re fine. He’s fine. It’s fine.</p><p>He doesn’t need to look at them until they’re cleaned up and fully dressed again.</p><p>It’s fine.</p><p>Fauntleroy makes a dissatisfied noise. “What are you two whispering about?” </p><p>“Roofs we’ve jumped off more successfully,” Gueulemer answers without skipping a beat.</p><p>Fauntleroy flips him off and Claquesous feels a little more himself.</p><p>---</p><p>It’s too close to the full moon again. It’s too close to the full moon and Faun is rearranging the living room.</p><p>“Can you push it a bit more to the left?” They scrunch up their nose and put their hair out of their slightly sweaty face. “It looks better if the chair’s in between the couch and the table I think.”</p><p>Silently, Sous complies, trying not to look at the way they scurry around and huff at the curls immediately tumbling back in front of their face again. He puts far more force into pushing the couch than he needs to, straining his muscles on purpose, because he can <em> feel </em>the wolf stirring. </p><p>‘Go <em> away </em>,’ he hisses silently at the corners of his own mind.</p><p>The feeling doesn’t go away, it never does. Once the wolf wakes up it feels nigh impossible to silence it.</p><p>
  <em> Faun </em>
</p><p>He doesn’t want to hear its <em> bloody voice </em>. ‘Fuck off.’</p><p>
  <em> No. Faun good- </em>
</p><p>Fauntleroy is clambering over one of the large chests with supplies, trying to get at the pile of throw pillows they. They are good. So good.</p><p>‘...I hate you.’</p><p>The wolf does not purr, it whines. <em> Like Faun. </em></p><p>He feels cold inside, but his skin is burning. ‘Yes, so do I. Which is why <em> you </em>will stay away from them. Go.’</p><p>
  <em> No! stay </em>
</p><p>He nearly snarls out loud. ‘If you won’t leave. <em> I will </em>.’</p><p> “Sous?”</p><p>He squeezes his eyes shut.</p><p>“Sous are you okay?” Fauntleroy sounds equal parts concerned and puzzled.</p><p>Claquesous opens his eyes and turns around. “Fine, Bouquetière.”</p><p><em> Bouquetière </em>...</p><p> “Are we about done, you think?” He tries not to clench his teeth too visibly.</p><p>“Yes,” Faun says, just a second too late. “Yes, we’re done. Thank you! It’s gonna be real cute when I’ve got all the decorations back up, just you wait.”</p><p>Gratefully he hurries towards the door, avoiding to look at them again, but smiling all the same. “I don’t doubt it.” </p><p> ---</p><p>Montparnasse has been looking at him all damn afternoon. As soon as Faun and Babet leave the room Claquesous knows he’s going to start talking shit and he’s right. Parnasse doesn’t even make it a minute before starting up in one of his quasi-nonchalant drawls:</p><p>“You know, I thought you’d be <em> less </em>nervous now they know.”</p><p>He doesn’t answer.</p><p>"You're jumpy around them,” Parnasse observes, coming to lean on the back of his chair.</p><p>Claquesous looks up, throwing him a sideways glance. “I haven’t been jumpy once in my goddamn life,” he corrects curtly.</p><p>Montparnasse blows out a noisy breath and pushes him against the side of his head. "You tense whenever they touch you."</p><p>"Get your hands off me Parnasse,” he says wearily.</p><p>Montparnasse prods him some more. "See, you don't even <em> care </em>that I'm touching you.”</p><p>"I care enough to break your wrist in a moment."</p><p>"So why oh why do you go all weird when little Fauntleroy does it?” Montparnasse talks over him.</p><p>Claquesous glares. "Don't call them that."</p><p>“Mm, what should I call them then?” He circles back around to the front of the chair, grinning widely. “Bouquetière?” </p><p>Oh fuck him. Claquesous fixes his eyes on him with exactly as much disdain as he feels. “Is that supposed to mean something?”</p><p>“Mmm, I don’t know,” Parnasse tuts. “What does it <em> mean </em>that your eyes just went yellow?”</p><p> </p><p>Babet has lived with them too long to even bother to try to pull him off Montparnasse, but he does tell them to keep it down. Claquesous takes that as an excuse to try and smother Parnasse’s breathless and increasingly pained jeering with the nearest tolerably soft object. This at least causes him to surrender, but Parnasse still isn’t done. Once he’s untangled himself from Fauntleroy’s new decorative comforters he sits up, giving Claquesous a penetrating look.</p><p>“Not like you to get upset over things like this.”</p><p>Claquesous is still breathing hard, but it’s his own heartbeat, his own anger. It’s not the wolf. It’s all him. “I’m sure you’re very proud of your accomplishment then.”</p><p>But to his dismay Montparnasse doesn’t take the bait. Instead he slants his head. “You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you. You’re not even going to try.”</p><p>Try <em> what </em>exactly, he wants to snarl, but he keeps his mouth shut.</p><p>“Why?” Montparnasse sounds sincere now and that’s worse than anything else he’s done so far.</p><p>“Cause that’s not what they need from me,” he gruffly breaks the silence. “It’s not what they want from me.” It’s not what <em> he </em>wants for them.</p><p>Montparnasse is still looking at them and his expression is one of doubt, maybe even disbelief. But he keeps his mouth shut this time.</p><p>Good.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes everything goes smoothly.</p><p>Sometimes there are little bumps and hitches.</p><p>And sometimes everything goes temporarily to hell.</p><p>Fauntleroy is grateful, very grateful, that there is enough bustle and hurry after the fight for them to go pretty much unnoticed as long as they’re keeping out of the way. In the short-lived conflict they had been instrumental, but now it’s time to haul crates of merchandise the guys really don’t need their help. </p><p>And they need to go unnoticed right now. They need to pull themself together.</p><p>But as they walk through the rapidly emptying warehouse they don’t even see the blood on the floor. They don’t even feel the strain of sudden exertion on their muscles. All they have on their mind is Sous. Sous eyes, and the moment they flashed amber as he <em> jumped </em>at the guy that tried to double-cross them. </p><p>-</p><p>"Faun."</p><p>"<em> Faun </em>."</p><p>"Huh, what?" Fauntleroy starts upright from where they’re sitting on the edge of their bed.</p><p>Montparnasse is standing in the doorway of their room, looking at them with one elegant eyebrow curved up. "...What's up with the zoning out?"</p><p>Their cheeks burn with guilty heat. "Nothing! What do you want?"</p><p>"Babet told me to check on you.” Montparnasse saunters into the room, looking at them far too attentively. “In case tonight freaked you out or whatever." </p><p>"I'm fine!"</p><p>Parnasse slants his head and very slowly and deliberately sits down next to them. "I can see that. You're also <em> blushing </em>though, which is infinitely more interesting."</p><p>They stare down at their knees. "Shut up."</p><p>"Alright,” Montparnasse says smoothly, promptly getting to his feet again. “I'll leave you be. I'm sure Sous will find your reaction fascinating all the same."</p><p>"No, wait!” they blurt out.</p><p>Montparnasse turns to face them again with a grin that lights up his eyes.</p><p>“It’s nothing,” they insist. “Sous told me before he can make us of his wolfish strength if he needs it.”</p><p>“Mm, so you’re saying it <em> didn’t </em>freak you out,” Parnasse says innocently.</p><p>“I barely saw anything anyway,” they lie.</p><p>“Mhmm,” Montparnasse hums. “Weren’t even paying attention, I’m sure.”</p><p>Fauntleroy feels the hotness on their cheeks spike and they give in. “Okay, <em> fine </em>,” they grumble. “I saw his eyes change. And the way he moved.” They look up at Montparnasse helplessly. “And he was so...so..."</p><p>His grin is not quite so wicked anymore, but twice as amused. "You think the wolf thing is hot."</p><p>They are sure they are as red as a beet by now and they are deeply resentful of this fact. But there’s really not any point left in lying is there. “..."Yeah,” they swallow. “But just this,” they hasten to add. “It’s the wolf aspects. Not the idea of him actually being a wolf.”</p><p>“There’s no need to defend yourself,” Parnasse grins. “I don’t judge.”</p><p>Fauntleroy groans and covers their face.</p><p>Montparnasse chuckles. “Try to get a glimpse of his teeth next time."</p><p>"Are you making fun of me?” they glare through their fingers.</p><p>"I wouldn't dare." He grins. "Innocent little Fauntleroy."</p><p>"Fuck off,” they grumble.</p><p>"Hey,” Montparnasse snorts, elegantly leaning against their desk. “That's what he thinks."</p><p>Fauntleroy lifts up their head. "He what?”</p><p>Parnasse smirks a self-satisfied little smile. “Nothing…”</p><p>They watch him go with static whirring in their head. Did Sous <em> tell </em>Parnasse that?</p><p>They’re still staring a hole through the door when Claquesous suddenly opens it.</p><p>-</p><p>He was expecting to find Parnasse with them. Babet sent him up ages ago for some reason or other and he’s taking an age. But Montparnasse isn’t here, just Faun, staring up at him like he’s an apparition. He lingers in the doorway.</p><p>“Did Parnasse—"</p><p>“You think I’m innocent?”</p><p>He doesn’t quite freeze, but his mind does go blank for a second. “I'm sorry, what?"</p><p>Fauntleroy looks up at him, frowning with a strange sort of dissatisfaction on their face. "Do you think I'm innocent?"</p><p>Okay, this isn’t good. "In what context...?" he asks cautiously.</p><p>To his horror Faun’s shoulders sag a little and they make a soft, unhappy kind of sound. "Parnasse just said—"</p><p>Goddammit. "Parnasse likes bugging people,” he says, luckily managing to keep his sudden flash of anger out of his voice.</p><p>Faun’s eyes are still fixed on him. "That doesn't answer my question." They really look unhappy. Unhappy and...frustrated?</p><p>Slowly, still angry at Parnasse and not sure how to solve this, Claquesous steps inside and closes the door behind him most of the way. Faun reads clearly more into this action than he had meant, because they move over a little on the bed to make room for him. Just a fraction, but it’s clearly an invitation.</p><p>Well, alright then.</p><p>He sits down next to them, trying not to think about the time they sat down on <em> his </em>bed, all fury at his injuries and sudden worried touches. He looks at them. “Faun, I was there when you held that guy at knife point and made him disable the security system by describing what would be doing to him if he wasn't. I know you're not innocent."</p><p>Fauntleroy lets out a faint laugh, which gives rise to a wave of relief. And then they suddenly lean sideways and rest their head against his shoulder, which gives rise to a wave of something else. </p><p>"I don't think he meant that kind of innocent, but okay,” they mumble. They lean into him a little more, making his heartbeat do something strange and unnatural. </p><p>"He's an ass,” he replies, keeping his voice as steady as he can. “Ignore him."</p><p> “Okay,” Faun sighs and suddenly they turn as fully towards him as they can while seated and wrap their arms around his neck.</p><p>Yes, okay, Faun hugs. He knows this. He should be used to it by now.</p><p>He isn’t.</p><p>They let go of him and Claquesous gives their shoulder an uncertain squeeze as they pull away. There’s still something odd in the way they’re glancing up at him.</p><p>“Alright?” he asks.</p><p>They smile faintly and nod.</p><p>“Okay.” He gets to his feet, slowly, trying not to hear the distant whine at the back of his mind as he does so. “Night, Faun.”</p><p>“Goodnight…”</p><p>He has barely closed their bedroom door behind him or he sees Montparnasse standing at the end of the hallway. Despite his best efforts Claquesous feels his face heat up with both anger and flustered embarrassment and under the infuriating pressure of Montparnasse’s grin he stubbornly turns the other way and retreats to his room.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>“I just don’t see what the big deal is.” Fauntleroy unwinds the wool from around Gueulemer’s hands to roll it into a neat ball with practised rapidity. “I know he gets uncomfortable near the full moon and all, but he doesn’t need to eat in his <em> room </em>.”</p><p>Gueulemer makes a low noise that really can’t be called any sort of answer. He is letting them use him as a yarn spool with remarkably little protest, but he isn’t a very involved conversational partner at the moment.</p><p>“Do you think this is normal, then?” Faun demands.</p><p>He glances at them for a second before looking down at his hands again. “Nothing normal about his situation.”</p><p>Fauntleroy pauses for a moment. That sounded way too grave for Gueul. “...I know that, but- He’s been like this for years.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Gueul mutters. “Hasn’t been easy.”</p><p>They take up the strand of yarn again and keep winding. It sounds almost like Gueul knows something about all this that they don’t. More so than Montparnasse, who just shrugs uncomfortably whenever they try to talk to him about it. That’s kind of surprising, but then, Gueul and Sous have a quiet sort of solid friendship. And, if they’re being honest, Claquesous would probably try not to tell them if something really bothered him. They frown at their yarn. He wouldn’t want to worry them.</p><p>Perhaps they’ve been unfair, being so miffed at him because he wouldn’t come down to eat their dinner. Well, it’s too late now to go upstairs and talk to him. Tonight is the full moon.</p><p>Fauntleroy sighs slightly. They’ll see him in the morning. They can apologise then.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>He knows that if he doesn’t go to see <em> them </em> , they will come to see <em> him </em>, so he washes and dresses despite the pain and exhaustion. He’s worse off now - way worse - than the time they barged into his room with their weird herbal ointment. They’re going to be upset. </p><p>He hates to see them upset.</p><p>He’s slower than he meant to be, still sitting on the edge of his bed when they softly knock on his door.</p><p>“Come in,” he says. He looks as presentable as he’s going to get right now.</p><p>Fauntleroy comes in smiling, which makes the shocked widening of their eyes only more jarring.</p><p>"Please don't look at me like that, I'm fine."</p><p>"What happened to your <em> face </em>."</p><p>What is he going to tell them? That the wolf nearly got loose last night, so Gueul was forced to strike it on its snapping jaws? "It's not broken. Babet checked."</p><p>Fauntleroy makes a miserable sound and they look so unhappy that Claquesous has to fight an irrational urge to apologise.</p><p>“You- I—" They take a step forward and then back again.</p><p>They clearly want to look him over. Maybe, if he just lets them, they'll let it go, after they're sure he's okay.</p><p>“Come check for yourself if you want.”</p><p>-</p><p>He looks awful. He looks <em> terrible </em> . His handsome face has lost its symmetry, parts of his jaw oddly swollen and his nose bruised. How did this <em> happen </em>?</p><p>Fauntleroy sits down beside him, almost scared to touch him. They think of the last time they were in this position. This is worse. "I didn't know your transformations were this bad…”</p><p>"Normally they're not. I... Like I said, I'm fine."</p><p>He even leans towards them to let them see, but what they see is absolutely not convincing. Fauntleroy gently probes over his bruises and they hate the way he flinches under their touch. Whatever happens to him every full moon, he doesn't deserve it. </p><p>He flinches very oddly when their hand accidentally touches the back of his neck. They don't see anything, but it's like there's bruising that doesn't show on his skin. Like someone held him down with something… They glance down at his hands, but his sleeves are covering his wrist. </p><p>"Is...is it just your head that's this bad?"</p><p>-</p><p>“Mostly.”</p><p>They're sitting very close to him, kneeling with their knees touching his legs as he sits up. Every time they touch him, they are a little gentler still and it's very...he doesn't remember anyone ever touching him like that. Kind, yes. Helpful, sure. But not like this.</p><p>He can't even fully process how <em> sad </em>they look for him.</p><p>The way they look at him, the way their fingers brush him, it's like they think he might break at any moment. Like he's fragile.</p><p>“Where else then?” they murmur.</p><p>No, he doesn’t want them more concerned. He wants them calmed down and reassured. </p><p>"I'm just sore,” he says. “And tired... Always am after everything."</p><p>Fauntleroy bites their lip. "Is there a way I can help?"</p><p>"I... don't know." No one's tried. But what’s there to try?</p><p>They frown and they keep frowning until they nearly look genuinely angry. “Sous this isn’t <em> normal </em>,” they suddenly burst out. “This can’t be happening to you every month!”</p><p>"Yeah, take it up with the moon," he grimaces. They’re finally catching on, aren’t they. Well, better late than never. If only it didn’t make them so miserable. "I'm used to it by now,” he mutters. “Stop worrying."</p><p>And they may be sitting on his bed in a rather awkward already-too-close position, but he shifts to offer them a hug anyway. Maybe that will make them stop looking quite so unhappy.</p><p>Slowly, cautiously, Faun tucks up against his chest, but they don't stop touching his face. And their expression softens, but they still look upset. "Does this hurt?"</p><p>"Everything hurts at least a little bit."</p><p>"And you're sure there's nothing I can do? I can get you some pain medication or tea or—"</p><p>"I feel better already—" With you here... "I promise. Besides, I heal quick. I'll be back on my feet by tomorrow."</p><p>God they look so full of disagreement. So indignant on his behalf. They look like they <em> would </em>fight the moon. For him. Just because of a few bruises. And without thinking he reaches out to touch their face, to stop them from staring angrily down.</p><p>"I promise I'm good, Bouquetière." That's all he meant to say really, but now they're suddenly looking up at him from behind those stray blue curls and their face is very close.</p><p>"You're the only one that still calls me that," they murmur.</p><p>"Am I?" He knows he is, but it’s the first name he ever used for them. Because of the flower shop they used as a cover during their first job. His fingers are still resting against their cheek.</p><p>"Yeah…” Their eyes are bright, they’re always so bright. “Why?"</p><p>"It suits you." He has to let go of them. Why isn't he letting go of them-</p><p>"It does?"</p><p>"Yeah. It's pretty, like you." He feels them bristle and quickly continues. "Pretty doesn't mean defenceless. You've got thorns beneath your petals. I like that."</p><p>They let their head drop against his shoulder, more settled in than before, and he carefully puts his arms around them. Neither one of them makes an effort to shift the other away, so he might as well. </p><p>It doesn’t have to mean anything more than this. It <em> shouldn’t </em>mean anything more. And Fauntleroy wouldn’t mean anything by it, surely.</p><p>-</p><p>Pretty like them, with petals and thorns....</p><p>Fauntleroy hides their face against Sous’ shoulder and he <em> allows </em> it. They can hear his heart beating, sounding strangely familiar to their ears. The way he just touched them - he’s <em> still </em> touching them - the way he just <em> looked </em>at them— </p><p>Claquesous has always cared.</p><p>Maybe they misjudged how much.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Something has changed. That last full moon, or rather the morning after, it changed everything. Whenever he thinks of the way they touched him, the wolf whines at the back of his mind. And whenever they get close to him again the beast is suspiciously silent. As if it’s content. Claquesous doesn’t trust that. Because Fauntleroy does get closer to him now.</p><p>He let his self-control slip for a second and now they’ve seen he cannot tell them no. That he doesn’t want to tell them no. And Faun is...Faun is affectionate. They crave softness in their life, so they create it. He knows this. But that doesn’t make it any easier.</p><p>And right now, with Faun drunk on triumph and overly sweet rosé after a truly masterful bit of burglary, it is absolute torture.</p><p>“I should get to keep them,” Fauntleroy declares, stretching out on their back on the couch to hold their hands up high, letting the expensive rings and bracelets catch the light. Their stockinged feet are resting in Claquesous’ lap and he’s trying not to think about the joyful little kicks they give whenever they see one of the diamonds sparkle extra brightly.</p><p>“Take it up with Babet,” Montparnasse sniffs. “He never lets me keep anything.”</p><p>“<em> You </em> didn’t just crawl into one of the most well-secured villas in the entire city,” Fauntleroy crows. “I’m keeping the ruby.”</p><p>They give another little kick with their feet and all of a sudden they are sitting up and their glittering eyes are suddenly very close to Claquesous’ face.</p><p>“You’d let me keep the ruby, wouldn’t you, Sous?”</p><p>He stares at them, at their flushed cheeks and their bright, triumphant eyes. “No.”</p><p>Fauntleroy lets out a squeal of displeasure and swats him against his chest. “How dare you.”</p><p>Defending himself would mean catching their hands or wrists, so he doesn’t. “Not like the ruby is the prettiest in the first place, Bouquetière,” he deflects.</p><p>“Mm?” Fauntleroy holds up their hands and before he even sees it coming they are crawling into his lap, leaning their back against his chest and stretching out their hands for him to see. “Which one then?”</p><p>The wolf makes a noise he does not want to hear. </p><p>“That one,” he says, his voice near emotionless with the effort to keep himself in check, and he points to the ring with the sapphire, making sure not to actually touch them.</p><p>“Hm,” Faun hums, slanting their head so it nearly comes to rest against their shoulder. “Why?”</p><p>Because blue suits them better than red. Because blue brings out their eyes. “Because.”</p><p>Fauntleroy sighs. “I’m <em> hungry </em>.” They fidged on his lap and Claquesous holds his breath. “Wasn’t Gueul gonna make food?”</p><p>He hums and they mercifully let themself slide out of his lap. “I’ll go see what’s taking so long.”</p><p>They skip off in the direction of the kitchen and Claquesous breathes.</p><p>“<em> Well </em> .” Montparnasse’s voice is exactly as wicked as his face while he leaves his chair to join him on the couch. "That was <em> incredibly </em>entertaining. You're in hell, aren't you."</p><p>"I am now," he glares, nearly snarling when Parnasse leans towards him to drape against the back of the couch.</p><p>"Touchy, touchy. Speaking of, you didn't exactly look comfortable with them touching you all over. Have I misread your affection for them?"</p><p>"They're drunk. And I don't know what they want, so what I want is nearly negligible."</p><p>Montparnasse purses his lips. "Have you tried asking them?"</p><p>"Not exactly..."</p><p>"Give it a try! They might actually give you an answer with their current intoxication. It tends to remove inhibitions."</p><p>Claquesous gives him a resentful look. "I might be more inclined to listen to you if you weren't clearly enjoying this so much."</p><p>Montparnasse shifts over, nearly leaning against him. "You know I don't believe in hiding enjoyment, it's one of the things you like about me."</p><p>Rolling his eyes at Montparnasse is second nature by now. His friend has always been like this.</p><p>"Honestly though, or as near as I can get, why don't you ask them,” Montparnasse presses.</p><p>Clearly he’s not going to let this go. A flat denial doesn’t work when Montparnasse has decided to be like this. "Not now,” Claquesous says stiffly.</p><p>"Why not."</p><p>"Because they're <em> drunk </em>," he hisses.</p><p>This time it’s Parnasse who rolls his eyes. "Oh you're such a drag."</p><p>“I won't take advantage of them being vulnerable."</p><p>"And why not?"</p><p>"Because I like them too much to do that."</p><p>"And what if they <em> want </em>to be taken advantage of a little."</p><p>"I <em> want </em>you to shut your mouth."</p><p>A sneer flashes on Montparnasse’s face, but at that moment Fauntleroy returns from their quest to the kitchen. Without Gueul, but clearly chewing on something. And the sneer turns to a grin. “Faun,” he waves. “Faun, c’mere.”</p><p>Claquesous catches on just a bit too late and before he can do anything about it Montparnasse has moved over just enough to allow Faun to squeeze in between them, which they do, gleefully. </p><p>"Has Sous ever told you about the time we got split up for a bit during a job and someone had the nerve to disarm him?"</p><p>"What?” they gape. “Disarm <em> you </em>?"</p><p>They’re looking up at him with rapt attention, which he really doesn’t need right now, as close as they are, but Montparnasse is pretending like there’s nothing more he wants than for all three of them to be cuddled up on this damn couch. </p><p>"Go on, Sous,” he grins. “Tell them what you did to the guy."</p><p>"It was a long time ago." He tries to smile, but it comes across more as a grimace. Faun doesn't seem to notice. "Pretty sure I shattered his wrist. Like I might do to someone here, if he doesn't stop playing games."</p><p>Montparnasse meets his threat with an utterly unbothered grin. "You did more than that!"</p><p>"And you'll be finding out exactly how much more if you don't <em> drop it </em>."</p><p>Instead of answering Montparnasse nudges Faun and drops his voice a bit, as if he’s talking only to them. "I mostly remember the <em> growling </em>. Vicious."</p><p>Faun's eyes are shining and Parnasse is grinning far too wide.</p><p>The first reply he tries to give is so much of a growl itself that it only makes matters worse. He sucks in a steadying breath. "I hadn't been like this long." He keeps his voice low as he explains. "I couldn't control it yet, so when he did that, I lashed out."</p><p>Faun makes a sound that is nearly a squeal. "What happened?" they demand.</p><p>Parnasse leans back, looking delighted and smug.</p><p>Sous blinks at them. Why do they look like they're <em> enjoying </em>this? "I snapped his wrist like a twig and threw him into a wall. Don't remember if I did anything after that."</p><p>"I only saw the aftermath," Parnasse says conversationally. "But even then. His eyes were bloody orange." He grins. "He had <em> fangs </em>."</p><p>The delighted little sound that escapes Faun’s lips shoots straight down Claquesous spine. “Faun,” he grits. “Did you ever get that food you wanted?”</p><p>“Mm, Gueul says I’m not allowed to eat his pasties,” they sulk. “I stole some carrots.” </p><p>“Right.” He stands up quickly enough that Faun abruptly tips into the space he had been occupying. "We’ll get you something to eat then."</p><p>Without waiting for a reply, he strides around the couch and all but drags Montparnasse along with by his shirt. The fact that Parnasse doesn’t even struggle or complain about his shirt makes him even angrier. He’s too busy holding in his goddamn laughter.</p><p>"What the <em> fuck </em>is your problem?" he snaps the moment they're out of Faun's earshot, shoving Parnasse in the chest hard enough to wipe the grin off his face.</p><p>"Just helping you along!” He lets out an incredulous snort. “Christ, Sous, they're attracted to the wolf stuff. I bet if you showed them your fangs, they'd beg you to take them right there!"</p><p>A hot feeling squeezes around his throat. He can’t think about that. He can’t. "You're awful."</p><p>Montparnasse sneers. "And you're blind.”</p><p>He snarls and Parnasse nearly takes a step back, but he stands his ground. "You're not going to tell me you didn't see that, didn’t <em> hear </em>that."</p><p>He doesn’t answer. Something very much like panic is rattling loose in his chest. </p><p>There is a flicker of genuine lack of understanding on Montparnasse’s face. "Don't you <em> like </em>having that effect on them? What's your problem. Really."</p><p>"I'm—" Static is whirring at the edges of his mind. But it’s filling the empty spaces where he knows the wolf will be.</p><p>Montparnasse’s expression changes, just a fraction. "You're not going to hurt them, Sous."</p><p>"You don't know that." It comes out more jaded than he meant for it to sound and Montparnasse hastens to cut him off. </p><p>"Course I fucking do, they'd slit your throat,” he scoffs. “They're more than capable of it. Pretty sure that's what <em> you’re </em>attracted to."</p><p>Claquesous stares at him for a long moment and then abruptly looks away. He can’t keep doing this. Not with Faun...with Faun being who they are. But he can’t do anything about it now. That would be taking advantage of them. And that would hurt then, right from the beginning. </p><p>He can't exactly tell Parnasse that, though.</p><p>"Stop meddling,” he grunts. “And don't bring up my fangs or their innocence ever again."</p><p>"They told you about that?" Montparnasse sounds genuinely surprised. </p><p>"They tell me about a lot of things,” he says coolly and before Parnasse can take that as an invitation for more bloody prying, he stalks off to the kitchen to keep his promise.</p><p>-</p><p>The next morning, unsurprisingly, Fauntleroy does not come down at the usual time.</p><p>“Go see where they are, will you,” Babet sighs. “We still need to go over some details from last night.”</p><p>Claquesous gets up before any of the others can, staunchly ignoring Montparnasse’s eyes burning on the back of his head.</p><p>Faun’s bedroom door is closed, so he knocks, but he does go in when there is no answer. The curtains are drawn, but it’s not really dark. More than enough light to see them lying in bed in a tangle of blankets. Their hair is a tousled mess of curls as they peek up at where he lingers in the doorway and their eyes are still small with sleep.</p><p>Fuck he's so damn fond.</p><p>"Hungover, Bouquetière?"</p><p>"I'm not hungover," they sulk. "I didn't drink that much. I'm tired, is all."</p><p>They're cute, they're so bloody cute. He can't stop whatever his face is doing right now.</p><p>"I—" He shuts his mouth.</p><p>They blink at him.</p><p>"...I'll tell Babet you're sleeping in."</p><p>Faun is watching him with what is best described as wariness.</p><p>He stalls a moment longer. "Something the matter?"</p><p>"You're smiling at me.” They sit up a little further, one of their two - or three? - duvets sliding off their bare shoulder. “Did I do something stupid last night and forget? I swear I wasn't drunk enough for that."</p><p>"No, no, it's- nothing like that. Don't worry about it.” He turns away, reaching for the door. “Go back to sleep."</p><p>He doesn’t look back to see the way they look at him as he leaves.</p><p>Maybe he should have.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Pining~</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fauntleroy is sitting on their windowsill, staring at the dark horizon. The moon will be rising soon. Perhaps Sous has already hidden away in the basement. They hate the idea of it. So much.</p><p>He’ll be bruised and beat up again tomorrow. They know what to look for now. It doesn’t make a difference that he’s good at hiding it, that he heals fast and that he assures them it <em> usually </em> isn’t as bad as this. Because it <em> has </em>been this bad. Month after month.</p><p>They startle at the knock on the door, turning round distractedly. “Yeah?”</p><p>The door opens without an answer and to their surprise Sous steps in. Fauntleroy immediately leaves the windowsill, concern flaring up in their chest. They had really not expected to see him so close to moonrise. “Sous, what’s…?”</p><p>He gives a vague shrug, his long hair already loose and his feet bare. “I know you don’t like me just disappearing.”</p><p>“Oh…” They swallow down the tugging on their heart. Sous has a habit of talking of greed and selfishness as if they are virtues, but they have never seen any of the latter towards themself. “How do you feel?” they ask, trying to meet his eyes. “Think it will be an okay night?”</p><p>Claquesous doesn’t quite avoid their eyes, but he doesn’t fully face them either. “Nothing unusual,” he answers.</p><p>Fauntleroy can feel their smile is doubtful. They draw in a breath to reply, but hesitate. Sous' last transformations have been rough. Unusually so, or so he tells them. When he emerges from the basement in the morning he’s bruised and battered and Babet and Gueulemer look exhausted. They’ve asked him how they can help so many times, but he doesn’t want their help. It hurts, not being able to help. Not even being allowed to try. It’s not right. You should be allowed to help the people you love!</p><p>Their indignation splutters to a wide halt and Fauntleroy struggles not to lose their composure. They love him. They do. And that’s… It’s something he should know. Something that should be known. Even if it doesn’t change anything. Even if it isn’t returned. It’s what they feel and he should know, because keeping it inside isn't how love is supposed to be.</p><p>Almost without making a conscious decision Fauntleroy opens their mouth and they end up speaking at exactly the same moment he does.</p><p>"Sous, I—"</p><p>"Faun—"</p><p>They abruptly shut their mouth, heart pounding, but Sous stops as well.</p><p> “You first,” he offers.</p><p>"Are you sure?” they ask weakly, their gaze nervously darting to the window. “How much time do you have?"</p><p>He looks at them with attentive, dark eyes. "I can spare a few minutes."</p><p>"It's…” They don’t want to back out now. They want to tell him. Maybe having something else on his mind than the turning - something completely positively, something honest - could make undergoing the full moon easier. “I'll walk with you,” they say. “It feels complicated, but I should tell you anyway."</p><p>Claquesous doesn’t look uncertain, not exactly, but his normal, neutral expression wavers. “Whatever you want. I'm here."</p><p>He doesn’t move though, doesn’t walk towards the door. He just stands and waits. So they don’t even have the distraction of movement to hide behind. </p><p>“It’s nothing like that,” they say, trying to quiet what must be a little concern on his face. “I’m just- coming here, being a part of this, is one of the best things I’ve ever done. And you’re…” They wish he wouldn’t keep looking at them like that. “You played a big part in me joining, in more ways than one.”</p><p>Fauntleroy knows that Claquesous argued in favour of them, way in the beginning, but also… They wanted to be part of Patron-Minette, sure, but they’re not at all sure if they’d ever let any of them get this close if it hadn’t been for Sous. </p><p>His expression is no longer neutral. He seems to be half frowning and half smiling, but there’s definitely something bemused in his eyes. Fauntleroy swallows again, glancing nervously at the window. How much time do they really have?</p><p>“...did something happen?” Sous asks suddenly, his eyes earnestly searching their face.</p><p>“No! No—" they protest hastily. “No, it’s nothing bad, really.”</p><p>The more they say that the less he seems to believe them. Fauntleroy takes in a steadying breath. It’s as if they can suddenly feel everything. Their heart pounding in their ribcage, the floor under their feet, their clothes hanging down their body.</p><p>"What I mean is—" they exhale, putting some strength back into their voice. “I think... I love you.” Oh the words glow in their chest. They do, they do love him. “...I have for a while,” they smile. “And, you don't have to feel the same, but- Sous? What is it?"</p><p>They look at him in dismay. He’s staring at them with such shock on his face. Oh that’s not what they wanted to happen at <em> all </em>.</p><p>“Sous I just wanted you to know,” they say gently. “Because it’s true. You don’t have to feel the same way, you don’t even have to answer me, but I just- I needed you to know.”  At least now he cannot doubt how important he is to them.</p><p>Claquesous is still looking at them and...his shock is not embarrassed or uncomfortable. He looks bewildered, but there’s a colour to his face that wasn’t there a moment before and there’s a frantic sort of light in his eyes that suddenly looks incredibly familiar. Familiar from so many little moments that they shared before.</p><p>“Sous?” They take a step forward. “You do believe me right?”</p><p>His lips part, but he doesn’t speak.</p><p>Fauntleroy takes the last step between them, looking up at him determinedly. “Because I do love you.”</p><p>Another single moment he looks at them with his eyes full of unexplained conflict and then, suddenly, he moves. To their joy he is moving towards them, but they don’t really dare to believe he’s going to do what it looks like until his lips are actually on theirs. </p><p>-</p><p>They’re kissing him back. They told him that they love him and they’re kissing him back.</p><p>Claquesous barely knows what he’s doing. He didn’t <em> mean </em> to kiss them. But the moon is so close and he feels...he feels too much. Love. They said love. How is he supposed to answer that? How could he <em> ever </em>have- Yes, they care, and yes, he does know that they want to be near him. But they can’t just-</p><p>His hand is still resting against their cheek, the other on their shoulder, his lips are still moving against theirs.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>He pulls away, nearly shaking, but as soon as Faun opens their eyes there’s a brilliant stillness in his mind. As if all of him is holding its breath. ...they look <em> happy. </em></p><p>Just for a second there’s no conflict. He doesn’t even feel the moon.</p><p>Fauntleroy breathes out a laugh and reaches up, hesitantly touching their mouth. Their cheeks are flushed pink and their blue eyes are absolutely shining with the same smile that’s trembling under their fingertips.</p><p>Sod the moon. Sod the wolf. There is no way in hell he is giving this up.</p><p>“Fauntleroy, I—"</p><p>A shrill, demanding alarm bursts forth from the silence and Claquesous swears. He struggles to get his phone out of his pocket, but he can’t turn the alarm off fast enough to stop reality from flooding in. The moon is about to rise and he is not alone.</p><p>The wolf is with him and it is <em> overjoyed </em>.</p><p> “I- I have to go—" He takes a forceful step away from Faun. “I need to…”</p><p>“Yes!” they say hurriedly. “Yes, I know. Um. So that was-?”</p><p>No <em> way </em> that he’s giving this up. “Yes.”</p><p>Fauntleroy’s lips tremble. “Okay. Be careful.”</p><p>The wolf is- the wolf- “Yes,” he breathes and he turns around, and runs.</p><p>-</p><p>Their heart is beating out of control, they're blushing like an idiot and the door has barely slammed shut behind him or all the panicked excitement locked in their chest bursts forth in a fit of giggles.</p><p>Fauntleroy presses their hand to their mouth, trying to breathe but caught halfway between unstoppable laughter and the sudden impulse to cry. </p><p>He kissed them</p><p>He looked at them like <em> that </em>and he kissed them.</p><p>Their giggles turn to a high, repressed sound at the back of their throat and they turn around aimlessly, looking through the room. Oh why did they do this now?</p><p>They’ve already taken two steps towards the door, before stopping themself with a whine of disappointment. Babet will never let them into the basement. And Sous wouldn’t want them to follow. But-</p><p><em> He kissed them </em>.</p><p>Fauntleroy turns back around, walks to their bed and buries their face into their pillow to scream. Even when they’re done screaming they don’t move. They stay put, their entire body seeming to vibrate no matter how still they lie, and silently begging Sous to be okay tonight and to still want them like he did just now when he comes to in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> pain- pain- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Pain. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> free </em>
</p><p>
  <em> cold. sad. no- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> empty </em>
</p><p>
  <em> bad </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Faun? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ...Faun? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> F- </em>
</p><p>‘No Faun. Not now.’</p><p>
  <em> Faun. me. us. </em>
</p><p>‘There is no <em> us </em>.’</p><p>
  <b> <em>me</em> </b>
</p><p>‘Yeah, enjoy it while you can. The sun will be up soon enough.’</p><p>
  <b> <em>Faun.</em> </b>
</p><p>‘<em> No </em>.’</p><p>
  <em> ...when? </em>
</p><p>‘When you’re gone. When you can’t hurt them.’</p><p>
  <em> no hurting </em>
</p><p>‘Liar.’</p><p>
  <em> no! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> calm </em>
</p><p>
  <em> sit </em>
</p><p>
  <em> lie </em>
</p><p>
  <em> wait </em>
</p><p>‘...why?’</p><p>
  <em> Faun. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>They haven’t slept. Or barely. Fauntleroy doesn’t remember the entire night, so they must have dropped off sometimes, but they’re wide awake again now. The sky is <em> finally </em>turning light outside. The sun will rise soon.</p><p>Hastily they scramble out of bed, wobbly from lack of sleep and sudden movement, and shrug on a hoodie over their pajamas. Their heart is pounding, making flashes of heat flush their skin. They turn around aimlessly, glancing through the room. He was here last night. Right here-</p><p>Outside, visible past the only halfway drawn curtains, a single golden ray of sunlight splits the horizon.</p><p>Fauntleroy bolts out of the door.</p><p>-</p><p>Claquesous is uncomfortably, unusually aware of Babet tucking the blanket around him. Usually there is pain clouding his mind still at this point. Why is there-</p><p>A bright, burning memory displaces all his thoughts with a single rush of sensations and Claquesous lifts his head up off the floor with a ragged gasp. His recently shrunk lungs rebell and he coughs.</p><p>“Wh-where’s Faun?”</p><p>“What?” Babet sounds startled, but when Claquesous moves to look up to him the chains pull on his wrists. “Wait, wait,” Babet urges and there is a metallic clink of keys.</p><p>“Faun—" Claquesous repeats and he drags himself into a sitting position as soon as he is free to do so.</p><p>Babet’s expression is oddly concerned when he meets his eyes. “I- I presume they’re home.”</p><p>“Okay,” he sighs. “Okay.” He rubs his wrists out of habit, but...they’re barely sore.</p><p>“Sous are you—"</p><p>He glances back up at Babet. “What?”</p><p>“...nothing.”</p><p>-</p><p>It’s Babet who comes outside when the door finally opens and Fauntleroy has to hold tight to all their self-control to not push him out of the way and run down the basement stairs.</p><p>“How is he?” they blurt out and Babet swears.</p><p>“<em> Jesus </em>, Faun—"</p><p>“Sorry,” they whisper, taking a step back.</p><p>He exhales heavily through his nose and gives them a wide-eyed look.</p><p>“Sorry,” they say again. “How is Sous?”</p><p>Babet straightens up, closing the door behind him, and gives them a hesitant glance. “...he asked for you as soon as he came to. Did you two fight?”</p><p>They swallow, almost too choked up with too many emotions to speak. “No, everything’s fine.” A stab of concern pricks through the blind rush of happiness. Babet didn’t answer their question. “But is he okay? Was it a bad moon?”</p><p>Babet is still looking at them with that strange expression on his face. “No… It was- odd.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” they ask anxiously, but Babet never answers their questions about what happens during the full moon.</p><p>Which makes it all the more shocking that he does this time.</p><p>“His transformation was too sudden, too fast- And I thought the wolf was going to bolt as soon as it could stand, but then… It didn’t. It just laid down, whining. Hardly moved the whole night. Just stared at the door.”</p><p>Fauntleroy’s heart skips and speeds and knocks against their ribs. Did it <em> work </em>? Did having them on his mind help? They swallow, fighting to keep their voice from shaking. “Can I see him?”</p><p>“He hates seeing anyone just after, you know that,” Babet protests.</p><p>They stare back at him in stubborn silence, not budging. This isn’t <em> fair </em> . Gueulemer is with him <em> right now </em>.</p><p>“Just... give him a minute, okay?” Babet reaches out and gives their shoulder an uncertain touch. “I’ll tell him you want to see him.”</p><p>Fauntleroy gives him a deeply dissatisfied look. “...fine,” they mutter.</p><p>They start to reluctantly turn around, but Babet suddenly catches them by their shoulder again, ducking his head down to look into their face. </p><p>He frowns at them. “Have you slept? At all?”</p><p>“Have you?” they retort. Babet actually does look a bit more rested than he usually does after a full moon, but that is besides the point.</p><p>His frown deepens. “You sure nothing happened last night?”</p><p>Fauntleroy draws back a bit, heat creeping up from their neck to their face. “I’m fine!” they insist. </p><p>Babet watches them with a wary expression.</p><p>“Okay, maybe I didn’t sleep a lot, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fine.” Their heart is beating high up in their throat, but at least they’re fairly sure it’s too dark in the hallway for Babet to see their blush.</p><p>He sighs. “Please go back to bed then.” </p><p>They nod, taking a few steps down the hallway, but as eager as they are to escape his sudden scrutiny they still don’t-</p><p>“I’ll make sure he goes to see you when he’s ready,” Babet says tiredly.</p><p>Faun hesitates. “Promise?”</p><p>“Promise.”</p><p>“Alright,” they mutter and before Babet can look at their face as they step into the light coming round the corner they hurry off.</p><p>-</p><p>Clearly something he did during his transformation has unnerved Babet, Claquesous can tell. But since Babet isn’t actually asking any questions, he has decided to ignore it. He has more important things on his mind.</p><p>After some frowning hesitation he takes a quick shower. He’s sore, but not even in any real pain, so it doesn’t take him too long. He still changes into his comfortable post-transformation clothes, but he at least looks halfway presentable. Presentable enough for Faun anyway. ...they won’t mind either way. </p><p>Christ, he can’t get the way they looked at him out of his head. The way they— </p><p>He blinks, breathing through a set of emotions he has aggressively been denying himself the freedom to feel. It’s quiet in his tired mind, but he can feel the crackling static of uneasiness draw in from every corner.</p><p>No, he doesn’t want that.</p><p>Before he’s even conscious of having made the decision he’s knocking on Fauntleroy’s door.</p><p>-</p><p>It takes some effort not to tear the door open and charge straight into his arms. Fauntleroy feels like they’ve been wound up like a spring and they keep their mouth shut for a moment for fear of startling him with whatever might come out. The relief of finally being able to see him already calms them a little. He does look worlds better than he did last month.</p><p>“...hi.”</p><p>He sounds so uncertain they can’t help but breathe out a laugh. “Hi,” they smile and they step aside.</p><p>Sous moves past them, close enough to touch, but he doesn’t, so they don’t. Fauntleroy gently closes the door and turns around to look at him again. His hair is damp, he’s barefoot. He looks soft and tense at the same time. Oh they want-</p><p>“Last night,” he mutters, dark eyes darting to theirs. “...I should have asked.”</p><p>Fauntleroy’s heart is doing something odd under his gaze. “Asked what?”</p><p>“Permission—" He’s barely moving, but he suddenly seems to be standing a lot closer. “To kiss you.”</p><p>Their smile trembles.</p><p>Claquesous lips move silently for a beat. “Do you…?”</p><p>“<em> Yes </em>.”</p><p>Now they do throw themselves into his arms.</p><p>-</p><p>The moment he set eyes on them he felt better and the moment their lips meet his he stops overthinking. There is that happiness again, seemingly jumping from their chest to his and absolutely burning on his skin.</p><p>Faun is kissing him and...no, he’s not giving this up. He's too tired and too happy to deny himself this.</p><p>They <em> love </em>him. He's allowed to love them.</p><p>-</p><p>It feels like the last, lingering barriers that were keeping them apart have cracked and shattered. Now they’ve wrapped their arms around him Fauntleroy doesn’t want to stop touching him anymore. They <em> can </em>touch him now. Exactly like they always wanted. Claquesous is right here, all softening rough edges, smelling of soap and shampoo and tasting like something that makes their head spin.</p><p>The only valid reason they see for pulling away every now and again is to look at him. To watch the unguarded, almost helpless affection in his eyes. To see how fair their hand looks against his skin as they carefully touch places where there could be bruises. Where they have seen bruises on him before. There are none now.</p><p>Claquesous mumbles something mostly unintelligible that ends in their name, pressing his forehead against theirs and Fauntleroy swears they can feel their heart flow over. Getting to kiss him is barely enough. They need to pour all the affection they’ve ever wanted to give him into every single touch. </p><p>They press against him harder and Claquesous takes a stumbling step backwards.</p><p>“Sorry!” They laugh nervously, almost too full up with happiness to feel the flash of shyness.</p><p>He makes a very similar sound, arms circling their waist now he’s steady again. “We could sit down,” he suggests.</p><p>Fauntleroy glances past him at the unmade bed they tumbled out of so quickly this morning. </p><p>“I mean, you’re pretty much in pajamas,” they say and before that boldness can slip through their fingers they take his hand and gently pull them towards their bed.</p><p>And he <em> follows </em> . Sous follows and he’s looking at them with that wonderful almost-smile and when they crawl into bed he <em> joins </em>them. It feels like their joy is about to burst out of the confines of their chest.</p><p>Claquesous lies down - in <em> their </em>bed - and looks at them with a clear invitation in his eyes.</p><p>Fauntleroy snuggles up against him, breathing out a content sound as they find a comfortably hollow in his shoulder for their cheek to rest against. <em> Now </em>they feel like they are touching him the right amount. They spread their hand on his chest. They can feel his heartbeat, just a little quickened, and they raise their head with a broad smile.</p><p>His eyes are dark. Post-moon dark. He’s so handsome.</p><p>“Kiss me again.” </p><p>He obliges and Fauntleroy doesn’t stop kissing him until they feel slightly light in the head. When they finally pull away a sigh escapes them. </p><p>"I've wanted to do that for so long."</p><p>Claquesous moves his head to be able to keep looking at them when they put their head down again. “Kiss me?” </p><p>"Kiss you. Tell you I liked you.” Their fingers pluck at the collar of his shirt. “I kept telling myself I was being stupid, and turns out I was, just not in the way I thought."</p><p>He makes vague, warm noise and nuzzles into their hair. "Either of us could have said something sooner. It's alright now, though."</p><p>They smile. ‘Alright’ doesn’t begin to describe it.</p><p>-</p><p>It’s not unusual for him to spend a day in bed after a full moon, although this transformation went so well he would normally have walked through this level soreness, but it’s definitely the first time he has spent that day with someone else. Recovering is very different with Faun next to him in the bed. Better.</p><p>That's such a foreign feeling. He has never wanted anyone around him after the full moon. He’s always so uncomfortable, so full of gaps in his memory and vague disgust. But Faun is the exact opposite right now.</p><p>They lazily roll around the bed like there is no place they’d rather put their head than on his chest, his shoulder or his forearm. Whatever position they choose, they absolutely radiate joy and comfort.</p><p>Claquesous spends a good while listening to them softly murmur explanations at him, detailing every single feeling they’ve had for him since what sounds like the moment they met, until he can’t take it any longer and rolls onto his stomach to prop himself up on his elbows and kiss them again. Fauntleroy kisses softly, unhurriedly and they move their lips as if they’re always on the point of smiling. He can’t even tell if their kisses are anything like he imagined, because he has already forgotten the fantasy.</p><p>He’s kissing them because they want him to and the wolf is miles away, every single sore muscle in his body a testament to how he beat it. This moment is perfect.</p><p>-</p><p>Sous doesn’t say much, but Fauntleroy doesn’t need him to talk. Feeling him relax against them speaks loud enough. They were planning to spend this day taking care of him. but he’s mostly okay, just sore. So maybe, just maybe, they’ll actually get away with spending the whole day in bed with him.</p><p>Until they get hungry of course.</p><p>They do get thirsty after a while, but that’s what bottles of water on the bedside table are for. Fauntleroy admires the sight of Claquesous, lying in their bed on his stomach with his arms folded underneath his head. They gently put the bottle away, freeing their hand to run in over the bare strip of warm skin that is visible of his lower back. </p><p>A hot, triumphant feeling tingles in their stomach. They get to do this now.</p><p>"Not that I'm complaining,” Claquesous mumbles. “But what are you doing?"</p><p>"...just appreciating." Fauntleroy slips their hand under his shirt, sliding it up, following his spine and he makes a soft little noise that nearly makes them giddy.</p><p>There’s no wincing now, no flinching in pain. But - now they’re paying attention to it - his muscles are completely locked up.</p><p>“Well,” they hum. “We can fix that.” </p><p>“Hm?” Claquesous hums distractedly, raising his head to look back at them, but Fauntleroy gives him a gentle push on the back of his neck to make him lie down again.</p><p>"Your back is a mess, love,” they inform him, moving over him to straddle his hips. “Hold still."</p><p>Claquesous makes an odd, startled sound and they feel him tense up so abruptly that they stop for a moment.</p><p>"Is this okay?"</p><p>He doesn’t give any indication that he wants them to get off him, but he doesn’t answer either.</p><p>"Sous?" Fauntleroy tries again.</p><p>"Yes,” he mutters, sounding a little hoarse. “Y- I'm okay."</p><p>They're a little doubtful about that tone of voice but as soon as they put some gentle pressure on the muscles below his shoulder blades he whines and turns head into the pillow, so that's alright. Once they’re sure he’s actually enjoying this they set to work with absolute glee. This is exactly the sort of thing they had in mind when they were wishing they could help him.</p><p>-</p><p>He can’t think. Faun is sitting on top of him and pushing their fists against his back and he can’t think. Some confused part of him seems to be stuck somewhere between fight or flight and the rest of him has completely surrendered.</p><p>He’s still in a post-moon state of burnt out instincts and exhaustion and right now Fauntleroy is doing things to him he cannot process beyond the realisation that he doesn’t want them to stop. They were touching him so gently a moment before and now…</p><p>Their fingers dig into the muscles of his neck and he groans involuntarily.</p><p>Faun hums affectionately as they knead towards his lower back again and the more strength they use the more Claquesous is at a loss as to why this is harder to process than kissing them. At least until he gives up trying to think coherent thoughts completely.</p><p>“Is it okay if I push your shirt up a bit?” Fauntleroy asks.</p><p>Claquesous gives a vague grunt in reply and pushes himself up just enough to pull his t-shirt over his head and toss it aside before settling back down.</p><p>Fauntleroy blows out a soft noise and traces down his back with nigh unbearingly soft fingertips. He shivers.</p><p>- </p><p>They have seen him without his shirt before, but they’ve never been able to really admire him. He has scars on his back, standing out pale against his dark skin, but they almost seem to blend in with his birthmarks and the rise and fall of his muscles. They run their hands gently up his back once more before they resume their massage. He’s beautiful and being able to touch him is gorgeous. </p><p>All kinds or words of affection are bubbling to their lips, but they decide to put it all in their touches. Sous still looks so quietly startled when they tell him how much he means to them, they don’t want to be overwhelming.</p><p>They push a little harder and he groans again, making them grin. </p><p>Oh yeah, this is <em> definitely </em>going on their list of standard werewolf aftercare.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>When Fauntleroy wakes up they are wonderfully warm and comfortable. It takes them a moment to piece together exactly why, but they don’t have to open their eyes to remember. They are curled up against Claquesous. In their bed. </p><p>They smile a wide, sleep-drunk smile into the pillow they dragged into the hollow of his arm.</p><p>Sous is <em> so </em>warm. He’s barely even covered by the duvet and he still seems to be heating the whole bed. They blink against the sleep in their eyes and look at the window. Dark. They must have dropped off after he did, because they don’t remember watching him fall asleep. Pity… But he looks so calm and unguarded now. They watch him for a while before lazily reaching out, trying not to leave their spot comfortably against Claquesous’ side, and grab their phone. Ah, no wonder they’re hungry. </p><p>They sigh, dropping their phone to close their eyes again and listen to Sous’ breathing for just a moment.</p><p>At last they do let themself slowly slip away from him. They will go down to grab some snacks and come right back. They have no intention to mess with this <em> excellent </em>situation they have found themself in.</p><p>But they have barely managed to slide towards the edge of the bed, or Sous suddenly stirs, reaching out wildy with an uncoordinated hand and letting out a whine of <em> sorrowful </em>disagreement. Fauntleroy can feel it stab into their chest and they hastily push their hand within reach of his grasping fingers.</p><p>“I’m here,” they promise. “I wasn’t—”</p><p>Claquesous opens his eyes and Fauntleroy’s heart jumps. He’s looking right at them, but he’s clearly not awake and his eyes...his eyes are yellow and wolfish. They are very certain Claquesous told them that the wolf is at its weakest just after the full moon. All its energy spent and its hold over him diminished until it starts growing again with the waxing of the moon. But this…</p><p>“I’m only going to get us some food,” they whisper. “I’ll be right back.”</p><p>His hand has closed around their wrist and while he’s not holding on very tightly, he’s not letting go.</p><p>Fauntleroy leans back towards him, gently putting a hand to his cheek. “It’s okay. I will be <em> right </em>back. You can let go of me now.”</p><p>His grip loosens and his eyes blink shut, the yellow draining out of them even before his lashes have fully fluttered down. </p><p>Fauntleroy waits a moment longer to move, breathing down their elevated heartbeat as they watch him sleep. Was that the wolf? No, that was Sous. It was. In everything. The way he held them, looked at them, let them go as soon as they said so. It was Sous. It was just… also someone wolfish.</p><p>Very carefully they get out of the bed, watching to see if he’ll wake up properly this time all the while, but Claquesous doesn’t stir again. So Fauntleroy sneaks out of the room, barefoot and soundless, and heads straight for the kitchen.</p><p>To their slight dismay it isn’t empty, but they really are hungry, so they go in anyway.</p><p>Babet, Montparnasse and Gueulemer all look up to watch them enter. Great.</p><p>“Hi, Faun,” Montparnasse sing-songs. “You’re looking…” He looks them up and down with infuriating self-indulgence. “...casual.”</p><p>They can feel their cheeks colouring. “Piss off,” they mutter, ducking their head as they stride to the counter.</p><p>Babet lets out a noisy, disbelieving breath. “So that's why you wanted to see him so bad.” He heaves an exasperated sigh. “Well thank fuck.” </p><p>Fauntleroy falters, their eyes flitting to him in confusion. "What—" </p><p>"He was driving me spare." Babet looks resolutely back down at his coffee. "Your problem now."</p><p>Is he smiling? Fauntleroy wants to ask, but not while Parnasse is smirking like that. </p><p>“Wait," Gueulemer protests. "You and Sous? Really?” </p><p>“And what of it,” they say challengingly.</p><p>His surprised expression relaxes into a goodnaturedly annoyed frown. "Great. Now I owe Parnasse a ten."</p><p>Montparnasse’s smirk widens to a grin. "That's what you get for betting against my people-reading skills."</p><p>"You... You've been taking bets on my relationship status?"</p><p>"More like on when Sous would finally say something. From my perspective anyway. Gueul bet against you, so take that up with him."</p><p>They huff, turning their back on the table to get some of the savory buns they hid in the tin behind the bread basket. “Well if you must know, <em> I </em> was the one that said something. So you lose.”</p><p>“Oh no,” Montparnasse says gleefully. “He bet against you <em> both </em>. Because, as it turns out, he hasn’t got functioning eyes.”</p><p>It’s difficult to glare when they know their face must be as red as a beet right now. </p><p>Parnasse smirks at them again as soon as they turn around. “Anyone could have seen you were both gagging for it.”</p><p>Fauntleroy turns stubbornly to the fridge in search of something to drink. “I’ll make <em> you </em>do some gagging,” they mutter under their breath.</p><p>It’s equally difficult to miss the sudden badly hidden cheerfulness filling the kitchen.</p><p>-</p><p>He wakes at the sound of the door, groggily opening his eyes to be immediately met with the sight of Fauntleroy carefully making their way back towards the bed, balancing a bottle of juice, a plate and a bowl.</p><p>They glance up, giving him a soft smile. “See? Right back, just like I promised.”</p><p>Claquesous blinks in confusion. “Huh?”</p><p>They look up at him again before carefully putting the plate down on the bedside table. “I went to get some food.” </p><p>“Oh...right.” There’s a faint feeling nagging in a distant corner of his mind, but Faun is crawling back into bed and he would much rather focus on them.</p><p>“I was hungry,” they explain, snuggling against him again and as soon as they do whatever vague thing that was not quite right slots into place.</p><p>He smiles vaguely and leans his head against theirs. “Mm.”</p><p>Fauntleroy wiggles and nestles and ends up digging a set of very cold fingers into his side, exactly at the place where his shirt has ridden up. He tenses and groans softly, making them giggle.</p><p>God they sound happy.</p><p>Is that what he’d sound like if he’d try to put a noise to all those feelings running into each other inside of him?</p><p>Faun reaches out and grabs one of the buns off the plate. They take a small bite, hum softly and tear the bread in two, offering him one half. Cradling the food in their hands like this they remind him of a little animal.</p><p>“You really want to eat bread in bed?” he mutters, fighting a grin.</p><p>“It’s <em> my </em>bed.”</p><p>“Mm,” he hums, glancing at the crumbs falling in between them. “But I’m in it at the moment.”</p><p>Fauntleroy’s grin lights up their whole face. “You are.”</p><p>He snorts, too fond to argue with them and takes a bite of his half of the bread. “Does that mean you don’t want to go down for dinner?” he asks after a few moments of affectionate silence.</p><p>Their eyes dart up to his face. “The others already had dinner.” </p><p>“...ah.” That means they ran into them. Yeah. He kind of forgot about that side of the situation.</p><p>Clearly Fauntleroy can tell what’s going through his mind. “Parnasse was an ass about it,” they sniff. “Babet seemed kinda relieved.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Claquesous grunts. “...what about Gueul.”</p><p>They look just a touch shy for a moment. “Maybe a bit more surprised than the others. ...I think they’re happy for us, though.”</p><p>He can’t nod very well lying down, but he tries anyway. That’s better than trying to put his thoughts into words. Montparnasse is going to be insufferably smug about all this.</p><p>“...they did place bets on us,” Fauntleroy adds.</p><p>Claquesous pulls a face. “Who won?”</p><p>“Parnasse.”</p><p>Of course he fucking did. Claquesous sighs heavily, putting his own bread aside and plucking Faun’s out of their hand also, so he can safely bury his face in their neck without adding to the amount of crumbs in the bed. Might as well ride this high while he’s here. “Pity,” he mutters against their skin.</p><p>Fauntleroy giggles. And they don’t stop for a while.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And everything was fine and there definitely wasn't any need for another nine chapters~</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Head's up: this chapter comes with a content warning for non-explicit sexual content.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Against every single instinct and expectation apart from the blind hope that comes with wanting something too badly to say no...it works. <em> They </em>work.</p><p>It’s odd, of course. Strange to be able to stop fighting the urge to be near them, strange to feel no struggle against himself whenever they touch him. The full moon is still far away and he feels better than he has in a very, very long time.</p><p>And the others don't seem to mind. Parnasse takes every opportunity to make unwelcome remarks, of course, but Faun was right, they're all happy for them.</p><p>He also seems to be the only one that's in any way concerned about this situation. So maybe… maybe he doesn't have to be concerned. </p><p>Maybe it doesn't matter that the wolf is there whenever Faun strokes his hair.</p><p>Speaking of stroking, Fauntleroy is doing a very thorough job of messing up his clothes.</p><p>Claquesous shifts them on his lap, squirming a little under their hands. "Has my shirt done something to offend you, Bouquetière?"</p><p>They peek up at him from behind blue and purple curls. "You keep dreaming off somewhere," they scold. Their hands lightly squeeze his sides, having found their way under said offending shirt. </p><p>"I wasn't going very far," he says, looking at the brightness of their eyes.</p><p>"But too far to kiss me."</p><p>He smirks, but he has barely leaned in to prove them wrong or the familiar sounds of Babet and Montparnasse respectively come down the hallway to disturb them. .</p><p>Fauntleroy lets out a childish whine that does something odd to a far-away part of his brain and slides off his lap. Reluctantly, but fast enough to be sitting next to him instead of on top of him by the time Babet and Parnasse come in. </p><p>Babet keeps his expression carefully blank, but Montparnasse’s face is lit up with schadenfreude. He knows better than to say something in front of Babet though. That wouldn't be amusing for anyone involved. </p><p>"Gueul just called," Babet sighs. "There's a hold up in the harbour, so we'll have to change our plans."</p><p>He's clearly pissed about it, so Claquesous keeps his mouth shut, just like the others. He does his best to listen, but Faun - sitting as close to him on the couch as they can possibly get away with - has snuck their hand behind his back and is toying with the hem of his shirt.</p><p>He keeps still, but as soon as Babet and Montparnasse get into a discussion on whether or not to contact their clients, he slants his head towards them.</p><p>"Behave, Bouquetière," he mutters.</p><p>They don't look at him, but their fingers slide very deliberately up his spine. "And if I don't want to?"</p><p>It takes some effort to keep his voice level. "I think you'll have to."</p><p>Fauntleroy locks eyes with him and the hotness in the blue makes his heart jolt. </p><p>"<em> I </em> think we should find a place to be alone," they say deliberately. " <em> Soon </em>."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Fauntleroy already knew that Sous hides away in one of the Patron-Minette safe houses sometimes. Parnasse does the same, sometimes they just need to be alone. But it’s odd to be going with him. Odd and exciting.</p><p>They have goodies stashed away in their backpack and there’s nowhere either of them needs to be for another thirty six hours at least. It feels wonderfully free.</p><p>-</p><p>As long as they don’t think he expects anything from them this is okay. Claquesous shows them upstairs in silence and he’s very aware of how close Faun sticks to him. It’s like they’re constantly one moment away from touching him.</p><p>They were the one that asked for this, he reminds himself. It’s not like he’s dragging them out here. The moon is still in its first quarter and the wolf has been quiet. He’s in as much control as he ever is with Faun around. Which means a good deal of the control is actually theirs.</p><p>Which is good.</p><p>-</p><p>He seems, for lack of a better word, nervous. Tense at least. Fauntleroy tries to peek around him curiously while he unlocks the door, but they don't really get a good look until they follow him inside. It’s a studio. Small, but not cramped. It has that odd, typical safehouse look. Neither lived in or well loved, but well cared for. They watch Sous take off his coat and their smile widens involuntarily. This doesn’t seem like anything special, but he did bring them here. They wonder if this is a favourite place of his among the ones at his disposal. A hide-away. A place where he’s sheltered and comfortable on his own. And he invited them in.</p><p>-</p><p>He’s just about to tell them that they might as well give him their review of the place he chose, because he knows they’ve got one, when Faun is suddenly pressed up against him. Instinctually he turns around and Faun immediately throws their arms up and around his neck, standing up on their toes until he bends down to feel them nuzzle against his neck.</p><p>“Okay,” he breathes out on a laugh. “You like it then?”</p><p>They tip their head back to look at him, eyes sparkling bright. “It’s perfect.”</p><p>He grins. They’re close enough to kiss and he really wants to, but… “May I take your coat?”</p><p>Their eyes spark and their cheeks flush. “Such a gentleman.” They turn around and let him help them out of their coat. </p><p>Feeling just a little lightheaded he makes a show of hanging it up for them and they giggle. Faun is wearing a shirt made out of an odd sort of nearly-sheer material and they’re clearly showing it off as they slowly walk away from him, looking around the room. </p><p>They’re so…</p><p>-</p><p>Fauntleroy turns around with a smile, a question on their lips, but they forget what they were going to ask as soon as they see his face. They <em> always </em> want him to look at them the way he does now. </p><p>They smile wider and he grins.</p><p>“So tell me.” They hold out their hand, trying to get him away from the door and within their reach. Sous takes a step forward and they look at him with twinkling eyes. “Am I the first more than casual hookup you’ve brought here?”</p><p>To their surprise Claquesous doesn’t joke back. His grin fades and he looks at them with an expression they don’t recognise. “...I don’t do hookups, haven’t for years.” He doesn’t look away and his sincerity is heavy enough to thicken the air. “Not since the first moon.”</p><p>Fauntleroy feels a pang in their chest. They just presumed… He goes out with Parnasse sometimes, and he stays away nights every now and again, so they thought...</p><p>They reach out, closing the distance between them to gently stroke the side of his face. "I can imagine it's something to be cautious with," they murmur. </p><p>"Yeah…” He sounds almost distracted, leaning in to their hand as they touch him. “But I also just, didn’t want to anymore. At some point.” He looks at them. "Not like I used to."</p><p>Fauntleroy swallows, they can feel his heartbeat where their hand is resting against his neck. “But...do you want this?”<em> Me, do you want me? </em></p><p>His answer is barely more than a breath. “Yes.”</p><p>Their heart keys up to a frantic, <em> triumphant </em>rhythm, and with a hurried sound of want they drag him down by his collar and kiss him.</p><p>-</p><p>Claquesous grabs at Faun, deepening the kiss as soon as they allow it. Being wanted by them is beyond anything he’s ever felt. And they do want him. They want him with an eagerness that translates directly into clumsiness. He grins into the kiss, nearly laughing as they try to push him through the room with stumbling steps and fumbling hands. He loves them.</p><p>He should have picked a place with more furniture, some dresser or table to lift them on to, but he settles for changing their direction and trapping them against the wall.</p><p>Faun breaks out of the kiss with a gasp as their back hits the wall, looking up at him with quickened breath.</p><p>Fuck he loves them. </p><p>-</p><p>Sous' kisses their cheek and jaw so softly that they shiver with the contrast of a moment ago. Fauntleroy lets go of his shirt in favour of feeling down his body, closing their eyes with a sigh as his kisses start to stray down to their neck. </p><p>He's so careful with them. And the way he just looked at them… Their body is giving off all kinds of wild, incoherent signals, but they don't have to worry about that now. Not with Sous. If anything doesn't feel right, they will tell him and he'll listen.</p><p>Their fingers find the loops of Sous' jeans and the pull, dragging him tighter against them. He makes a low sound that makes a rush of heat wash over them and then a soft whine that makes them giggle. </p><p>They both try to move their heads for a kiss and nearly bump noses. Fauntleroy laughs at the face he pulls and makes use of his confusion to push away from the wall and walk him backwards towards the bed.</p><p>The bed, they suddenly realize, that is neatly made. "Did you come here earlier to make the bed?" they ask, grinning as wide as their heart feels full. </p><p>"Don't know what you're talking about, Bouquetière," he says.</p><p>They laugh in affectionate triumph. "Yeah you do." They lift their face to his. "Kiss me."</p><p>He bares his teeth at them in pretended indignation and a moment later his lips are on theirs again, catching their heart mid-skip.</p><p>Fauntleroy hums into the kiss, drunk with affection, and grabs him by his hips to steer him all the way to the bed. </p><p>He lets himself fall when they push him, but he does take them down with him and they squeal, gleefully struggling in his embrace until they manage to straddle his lap and sit down.</p><p>Sous looks up at them with large, adoring eyes and for a moment they think they see an amber sheen in the brown. His lips part as if he's about to speak but then he doesn't and he kisses them so desperately that it steals their breath.</p><p>They know what he was going to say. They know. They <em> know </em>. Suddenly all they want is to touch his skin.</p><p>-</p><p>His t-shirt is a lot easier to get rid of than Faun’s shirt. The buttons are infuriatingly fiddly. But the material, thin as it seems, is far stronger than it looks. He doesn’t have to be afraid of breaking it. It doesn’t help his coordination that Fauntleroy keeps dragging their fingers down his arms and trying to kiss his hands.</p><p>“Should I wear something with snaps next time?” they tease. “So you can just rip it off?”</p><p>He glances up at them and gives a tug on their finally unbuttoned shirt. “I don’t need snaps to be able to rip clothes off you, just permission.”</p><p>Their cheeks get even pinker than they were and he grins, pulling them in to press a kiss to their newly exposed chest. Faun winds their arms around his neck and sighs. Claquesous plants the next kiss a little higher, enjoying the feeling of the loose fluttering fabris as he lets his hands explore down their sides and their back. Two of his fingers hook around the waistband of their trousers. He has to ask.</p><p> “These stay on?” he asks softly, muttering against their chest.</p><p>“Mhm,” Fauntleroy mumbles.</p><p>“Okay,” he breathes and he presses a kiss at the hollow of their throat.</p><p>They make a soft, weak sound and suddenly they shift further onto his lap, stretching their legs instead of kneeling on them and then firmly wrapping them around his waist.</p><p>Even sitting on top of him like this Faun's weight feels slight to him, but they're warm and moving against him and- He follows the curve of their neck with his kisses, answering his own hungry adoration, and Fauntleroy keens.</p><p>The sound twists in his midriff, making him drunk for a second. He lifts his head, keeping their bodies pressed as close as they can. "Again—" he pants against their skin, immediately giving in to the urge to mouth at the curve of their throat again and inadvertently touching his teeth to their skin. "Make that sound again."</p><p>The breathy laugh that spills from Fauntleroy’s lips sounds as drunk as he feels. "Make me."</p><p>-</p><p>Fauntleroy’s hand finds its way into his hair, fingers winding into his curls as their grip tightens to keep him there. His mouth on their skin is almost better than kissing him themself. It makes their skin buzz and their heart flutter, and they never want to be apart from him again. They press against him tighter as he tastes their skin, rewarding him with another eager sound. </p><p>“Harder,” they whine. They want to feel his teeth again. </p><p>Sous doesn’t pull away, but they feel him falter. Fauntleroy loosens their grip on the back of his head, equal parts confused and concerned, and lets their fingers slide out of his hair in a gentle, stroking motion. </p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing,” he murmurs, his head following the movement of their hand and coming to rest against their shoulder. His lips press softly to their neck again.</p><p>Fauntleroy sighs, eyes nearly closing, but they can still feel his hesitance. That wasn’t there before. They keep stroking his hair, their other hand trailing up and down his back, both to steady themself as he slowly begins to move with a little more force again and because of the way his muscles move when they softly use their nails.</p><p>Sous pulls gently on their shirt, letting it slide off their shoulders and they give up touching him for a moment to let the fabric slip down their arms. They shiver just at the moment that he opens his mouth against their skin and his kiss gentles immediately.</p><p>Oh… Fauntleroy slides a hand into his hair again. “You’re not going to hurt me,” they whisper. </p><p>A muffled sound escapes him and they could swear they just felt his heart rate jump.</p><p>“You couldn’t if you tried Sous…”</p><p>They gasp when the gentle pressure of his teeth presses to the curve of their shoulder and they whine when he does it again, parting their lips to let whatever jumbled words of praise their fogged-up mind can come up with roll off their tongue. Whatever they can do to convince him this isn’t painful. Whatever it takes to make sure he <em> doesn’t stop </em>.</p><p>-</p><p>They’re dizzying. It’s almost bewildering how overwhelming they are. Just a sound...just a touch… And their trust is as intoxicating as their want. </p><p>They want him and they trust him and he’s helpless.</p><p>It feels dangerously close to losing sight of keeping control. But there’s no room to be wary of the wolf. His mind is filled with chasing whatever is making Fauntleroy move their hips like that. As long as he can keep coaxing those sounds from their lips, can make their breath stutter like that, nothing else matters.</p><p>-</p><p>Their breath catches in their throat when his hand slides up their leg and between their spread thighs.</p><p>He’s not trying to undress them and he’s being so gentle that it makes their head spin, but this is new enough, rare enough, to tug at something like uncertainty. They want- They <em> do </em>want this. But they need more than touch right now.</p><p>Fauntleroy follows the curling heat stirring in their body and presses against him, leaning their head against his, close to his ear. “Tell me—" they pant, squeezing their eyes shut. “Tell me about the night we met?”</p><p>Claquesous answers with a soft, surprised hum. His touch falters for a moment and before he can retract his hand Fauntleroy places their hand over his with a soft whine.</p><p>The next thing he does with his fingers makes them bite down on their lip. “Please?”</p><p>Sous’ other hand comes to rest low on their back, warm and steadying. “I thought you remembered?” he murmurs softly. “Don’t you?”</p><p>“I remember your eyes,” they whisper and they can see them now, fixed on them with such a glow. “I remember you picked me up.”</p><p>“Well…” Claquesous’ fingers are clever and talking does not distract him from them. “You were hurt, I had to… I wanted to.”</p><p>They smile drunkenly against the curve of his neck. “Now you’re sweet talking.” He’s sweet. So sweet.</p><p>“I saw you go down, Bouquetière,” he scolds. “That wasn’t going to happen.”</p><p>His hand has found a slow, coaxing rhythm now and Fauntleroy can manage no other answer than a moan.</p><p>-</p><p>The words come out of his mouth with barely any interference from his brain. How can he think when they’re shaking in his lap like this? He only meant to tease them a little, but they’re…</p><p>“You tried to fight me, remember?”</p><p>Fauntleroy laughs, their breath high and light. “I- ah- I didn’t get very far.”</p><p>“No...you had a pretty bad concussion.” </p><p>Their fingers are digging into his back and nearly pulling on his hair and this entire moment seems locked between singing strings of tension winding around them. They keen at the next touch between their legs and the urge to kiss the sound from their lips is suddenly absolutely overwhelming.</p><p>“Come here,” he breathes, and contradictorily he lifts their head away from him, cupping their cheek. </p><p>As soon as they open their eyes to look at him he forgets about kissing them. Their blue eye seem almost black, their pupils huge and wholly unfocussed as they stare into his eyes. Their lips are parted, their breath coming in slow but ragged pants, and with a drowsy, indulgent movement they turn their head and press a kiss to the flat of his thumb.</p><p>The strings around him tighten. </p><p>“You know what?” they sigh. “I don’t think I ever really forgot that night. Can’t have.” Their lips are wet now and their eyes are still almost black. “Can’t have forgotten being in your arms—"</p><p>His hands are still moving, but he hardly knows how. </p><p>“I remember you looking at me,” they murmur. “Looking at me in your arms… What were you thinking?”</p><p>He swallows.</p><p>-</p><p>Their body is humming inside and out. Fauntleroy doesn’t remember ever being <em> this </em> warm. It’s like their body is stuck in shuddering bliss and they feel like if they would let themself tip forwards just a little, they could share <em> all </em>of it with Sous. At once. </p><p>They could drown in this feeling together and he would be theirs.</p><p>But he needs to answer them first.</p><p>Fauntleroy’s fingers slide up the back of his neck, up into his hair. “What did you think, Sous?” they whisper.</p><p>He’s so beautiful with his eyes wide like this. </p><p>“I...” With their hand pressed to his neck they can feel his heart racing and for a moment they forget to listen to his voice while they’re watching his lips. “I thought…”</p><p>They look into his eyes.</p><p>“I thought, no one that knows their way around a knife like that should look that flawless.”</p><p>Fauntleroy lets themself tip forward and shuts his mouth with theirs.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Somehow, almost without him noticing, post-moon mornings stopped being solitary. They belong to Faun now.</p><p>Oh they ask, of course they do. But he never says no. He doesn't want to. No matter how he struggles with their softness sometimes.</p><p>It's getting better though. Better now he knows how to spoil them back. It is easier to enjoy their fussing, cooking and petting when he has wordless ways of repaying them. And it’s good to be with them while the wolf is drained and silent. Good to be certain it’s just him wanting them. Just him.</p><p>Because the closer the moon gets the harder it is.</p><p>He can win, he knows, that isn’t the issue. But he can’t forget the wolf. It’s always there, as soon as the moon starts waxing again. It’s always right there with him and - that is the stinging part - it’s just as addicted to Faun as he is.</p><p>-</p><p><em> “Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man. </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> The expedition of my violent love </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> Outrun the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan, </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> His silver skin laced with his golden blood,” </em></p><p>It’s almost hard to actually listen to the words Claquesous is reading, with the way he subtly changes his voice from speech to speech. From where they’re kneeling behind him they can’t see his expression, but even the way he holds himself and moves his head differs from character to character.</p><p>Fauntleroy slowly combs their fingers through his hair and smiles. Of all the things they have learned he likes, playing with his hair is very probably their favourite. They never do it when the others are around - even though they’ve all gotten used to them being at least a bit cuddly with him whenever they’re sitting together - but when they’re alone it’s the one thing they know he’ll always want. And if they try in earnest he just <em> melts </em>. He really does. That’s why they won’t let any of the others know. It’s like keeping a secret all to themself. </p><p><em> “Steep'd in the colors of their trade, their daggers </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> Unmannerly breech'd with gore. Who could refrain,” </em></p><p>They stop their idle combing and thread their fingers deeper into his curls.</p><p><em> “That had a heart to love, and in that heart </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> Courage to make 's love known?” </em></p><p>It’s not Shakespeare’s fault, they just can’t resist any longer. Fauntleroy scratches softly behind Sous’ ear and he breathes out a weak, animal noise. His head tips heavily into their hand and the book nearly slips from his grasp.</p><p>Fauntleroy feels their fondness nearly burst out of their chest as he leans back against them and they keep gently scratching his head, softly tugging on his hair. </p><p>He makes another wonderful sound. “I thought you wanted me to read to you?” he mutters.</p><p>“Mmm…” They can see his face now, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. They could kiss him… “Maybe you should read me a romance next time,” they coax.</p><p>His eyes open and lift lazily to their face. His head is now completely tipped back against their shoulder. </p><p>“Trying to advocate for a different book by interrupting this one with petting is rather bad strategy on your part.”</p><p>Fauntleroy grins. “That depends entirely on my priorities, doesn’t it?” </p><p>They scratch with just a little more force and he shudders, breathing out with a faint sound that is <em> almost </em>a whine. </p><p>It just takes a couple more tries to get him to give in completely and stretch out of the bed to rest his head in their lap.</p><p>-</p><p>Faun always looks so pleased, so delightedly smug, when they’ve gotten him to lie down with them. As if he needed to be tricked into this.</p><p>Or maybe that isn’t the reason why they look like that. Maybe it’s just the fact that they know. Perhaps they can see how his entire mind scatters when they do this. How he almost bloody forgets where he is when they wind their fingers into his hair.</p><p>They smile at him, tugging softly at the hair at the nape of his neck and he <em> feels </em>the wolf stirr. It happens too often lately. Far too often.</p><p>Faun is beginning to notice. He can tell from the way they’re looking at him.</p><p>They’re going to ask. He recognises the way they almost bite their lip from the last time they asked, and the one before that…</p><p>“Sous...will you let me stay with you this moon?”</p><p>There it is. He doesn’t close his eyes, doesn’t lift up his head, but makes sure to keep his expression blank. “Why?”</p><p>Fauntleroy looks away, toying shyly with his hair. “I just…I want to be with you.”</p><p>-</p><p>They want to meet the wolf. They need to. They need to to understand. To know. Isn’t it fair that they should know the man they’re with? As much of him as possible?</p><p>And it’s awful, having to wait out every full moon. Knowing he’s locked up in the basement and not being able to help. Having to see him go tense and silent and grim in the days leading up to it. Seeing him bruised and battered afterwards. </p><p>Because it’s been getting worse again. Gueul told them it seemed to get easier for a while, after they got together. Babet even remarked on it. That it must be because Sous is happier. But, they still make him happy - they <em> know </em>that they do - except the moons have turned sour again. </p><p>They want to help. They want to be there for him.</p><p>And he won’t let them.</p><p>-</p><p>Claquesous sits up, trying not to let the dread settle too heavily in his stomach. If the wolf hurt Faun- if <em> he </em>hurt Faun… He wouldn’t be able to fucking live with himself.</p><p>And he doesn't want them to see him like that. He can’t. Fauntleroy has a strange, twisted view of what he is. He understands that much. Maybe it’s their love for stories, their romantic nature perhaps, but they won’t believe him when he tells them the thing he turns into is dangerous. </p><p>"It's just one night,” he says. “You can be with me before, after, whenever you want, but during you have to stay away.”</p><p>The blue of their eyes sparks with a pang of hurt and he feels it burn. "But I want to help!"</p><p>They want to help. And he’s beyond helping. "Faun. I'm serious. That beast, it's... That's not me. I don’t want you to see that.” He forces himself to look at them. “I don’t want you to think of me as a monster."</p><p>Fauntleroy scoots forward, closing what little distance he left between them by sitting up, and wraps their arms around him. “But it <em> is </em>you.” They lean their head against his. “And I like monsters.” </p><p>His smile is not insincere, but it does feel pained.</p><p>Faun’s eyes are large and blue and very close. “There’s been people that called me a monster,” they murmur.</p><p>He allows his hands to touch them again, reminding himself that they’re not claws just yet. Not for another ten days. “If I’d been there to hear it I would have cut out their tongues.”</p><p>Fauntleroy laughs, nudging their nose against his, whispering as their lips get closer together. “That sounds like something a monster would say…”</p><p>He exhales, almost laughing back. He loves them. He loves them and he knows he’s going to lose. “Not this moon,” he mumbles. </p><p>“Okay,” they whisper, and their lips touch his.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It is time for some talking, some tenderness and some extremely indulgent werewolf tropes~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>No matter the noise and clamour of Paris, the sound of Gueulemer pulling up in a car is pretty much unmistakable. And Fauntleroy has never been so glad to hear those screeching tires.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank fuck,” Montparnasse sighs. “You really have been insufferable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bite me,” Fauntleroy sneers and they dart to the window. Gueulemer is back and </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sous is in the car with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t really seem necessary anymore, does it?” Parnasse drawls behind them. “You should have asked me </span>
  <em>
    <span>before </span>
  </em>
  <span>he came back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Typical. Instead of answering, Fauntleroy grabs a throw pillow off the couch as they run towards the door. They swing it towards him, wait for him to duck to avoid it, and hit him hard in the back of the neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow!” Montparnasse spits. “Fucker!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you too!” they sing-song at him as they hurry into the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nearly run into Gueuelemer, which has largely the same effect as running into a large piece of furniture. Except furniture is less susceptible to being hugged and since they don’t actually see Sous right this second they can spare a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Gueul!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Faun,” he chuckles, managing to combine hugging them with shuffling out of the way to let them past when he lets go again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy gives him an extra squeeze around his broad chest and then trip hastily out the open door. “Sous!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Claquesous’ expression changes when he sees them does something to their heart. He drops the bag he just grabbed off the backseat of the car and turns to face them just in time for them to jump at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy wraps their arms around his neck and bump their nose against his head in an attempt to kiss his cheek. He stumbles under their unbalanced weight and nearly laughs out loud. “I missed you too, Bouquetière.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their cheeks glow, but their heart glows brighter. “Two </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” they protest, releasing him from their grip but immediately reaching to grab his hands. “I had to miss you for—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their fingers wrap around his and Claquesous </span>
  <em>
    <span>yelps</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a harsh, painful sound and Fauntleroy lets go of him just in time not to feel the frantic movement with which he tries to pull himself free. Sous swears as he backs roughly into the parked car and nearly doubles over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s cradling his left hand in his right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy stares at him in frightened bewilderment. “Sous,” they begin anxiously. “What—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Light glints off their raised right hand. Off the silver ring around their finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic stabs through their chest. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck—" </span>
  </em>
  <span>They scramble to pull the ring off their finger, but it’s stuck on their hand. “Sous- Sous are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” he grunts, but he doesn’t look fine in the slightest. His face is grey and strained and he’s still clutching his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>sorry, I forgot! Did it burn you?" They swear at the ring and pull on it with more force.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave it,” he growls and it’s an actual growl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy freezes to their spot for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” he mutters. His eyes dart to the side, scanning the empty street. “Let’s get inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t know what to do other than ball their hand up into a fist and hold it behind their back. They hastily grab Sous’ bag and he doesn’t even protest. Fauntleroy trails after him as he hurries inside, anxiety still speeding up their heartbeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hurt him. They didn’t mean to, but they did. “Sous,” they plead. “Please let me see. Is it very bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” he repeats gruffly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Clearly it's not,” they argue, following him up the stairs. “You’ve never made that noise before."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He avoids their eyes. "It stings, is all. It's just the silver, don't worry about it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It still hurt!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not a big deal."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy closes the door to his room behind them, setting the bag down on the floor. "Sous, something I did </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>you.” They wait for him to look at them and when he does his face is a little less strained. “Even if it's just a little bit, that doesn't mean I don't feel bad. Please, let me see?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t say anything, but eventually he gives a relenting nod and sits down heavily on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy takes off the ring and now they’re not trying so frantically it’s much less of a struggle. They put it on his desk instead of putting it in their pocket, just in case, and sit down next to him. Reluctantly, Claquesous holds out his hand. A shiver of guilt and empathy twists in their stomach. There’s a nasty pink burn mark on his dark skin where their ring pressed into his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Sous…” They gently cradle his hand in theirs, careful not to touch the wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a dismissive noise and they sigh, leaning forward to kiss his hand as softly as they can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should see if Babet has anything for burns.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s unnecessary,” he says stiffly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They glance up at him with a disgruntled frown. “Not if I’m going to hold your hand any time soon.” They glare in the direction of the ring. It’s awful that something they like so much hurt him like this. “I won’t wear that anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, keep it,” he protests. “If you like it, you should have it. I’ll be more aware of it from now on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t be serious. “Sous, I’m not going to wear something that </span>
  <em>
    <span>burns</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.” They look up at him again, mildly shocked he’d ever think they’d agree to that. “If I had asthma you wouldn’t smoke around me, would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is the faintest hint of a smile in one corner of his mouth. “I haven’t smoked in years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They poke him in his side. “Not the point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being upset around Faun is almost as hard as actively disagreeing with them. Claquesous lets them fuss over him a little longer, leaning against him and carefully stroking his fingers. He’s been hurt far worse than this, in the early days when he still thought he could build up a tolerance against silver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In any case. It isn’t him that was burnt. It’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>wolf</span>
  </em>
  <span> that’s hurt. The wolf that’s scared. And he doesn’t want to care about that. He doesn’t want to care about the monster. Faun should be able to wear all the glittering silver they like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t have the luxury of disregarding the weaknesses of a thing that shares his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy makes a soft, questioning sound. Clearly he hasn’t been guarding his expression well enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” they ask, cautiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “It seems strong, the beast. Powerful. But it’s so easily scared. Silver, fire… It’s just a feral, senseless animal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look at him quietly. As if they don’t understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It could have attacked you,” he explains grimly. “Just for touching it with silver.” He wants to believe he would never have let that happen, but he can never be sure. Not sure enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy’s eyes are full of uncertainty. “...all you did was jump pull away, Sous.” They look unbearably sad for a moment. “You tried to </span>
  <em>
    <span>escape</span>
  </em>
  <span> from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he touches their face with his unmarked hand. “The wolf did, not me. Fight, flight, doesn’t matter. It’s all feral.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They bite their lip in sober silence, not answering, but they lean into his touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous knows what they’re thinking. They don’t believe him. They will never believe him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not unless they can see for themself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Faun?” If he’s going to make this decision he might as well do it now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy meets his eyes. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any more silver jewellery?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy doesn’t remember Claquesous ever being this tense around them since they got together. If it wasn’t him there would be something menacing about the way he’s moving his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you there during the transformation,” Claquesous says firmly. “But Babet can come and get you, once I’m- after the transformation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nod, trying not to focus on the first part of that sentiment. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>want them. He just can’t bear the thought of them seeing him so out of control. That’s understandable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And keep the silver on.” Sous’ voice becomes a little rougher. “Faun?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy meet his eyes again. God he looks almost angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> take it off. It’s for your protection, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nod again. He won’t be like this every time, surely. He’s only afraid because they’ve never done this before. He hates the full moons and he’s only showing them because he knows they want to know what it’s like. But...Fauntleroy can’t help but hope that they’ll make a difference. That them being with him will make him feel different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes when they’re alone together, in unguarded moments - when he’s leaning against them drowsily or breathless on their kisses - they can see the spark of wolfishness in him. And in those moments it never feels like something dangerous. It never feels like Sous losing control. It feels like him </span>
  <em>
    <span>relaxing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They simply cannot believe that the wolf he turns into could ever be dangerous to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be careful,” they promise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous exhales tensely and takes their hand in his, rubbing his thumb across their knuckles. “Alright—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His expression is fond, but behind the gruffnes and concern Fauntleroy suddenly sees such a wave of fear that their heart sinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to show me,” they say. “We can leave it. If you don’t want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s silent for a long moment, but the he shakes his head. “No. No, you should see.” A bitter sort of smile pulls on his mouth for a second. “I owe you that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several different protests to those words, to that look, jump to Fauntleroys lips, but they get tangle up on the way out. “You—" They shut their mouth and try again. “I love you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All </span>
  </em>
  <span>of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow it comes out sounding like an accusation and a promise all at once. Good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wry little grimace turns into a genuine smile for the moment. He has a very particular smile whenever they state their feelings with any sort of indignation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” they order and he readily leans down far enough for them to hug him. Fauntleroy hugs him as tight as they can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous deliberately turns his face into the curve of their shoulder and mutters something nearly unintelligible into the fabric of their shirt. “Love you too—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes. They love him and he loves them. And that means - no matter what Sous thinks - that </span>
  <em>
    <span>means </span>
  </em>
  <span>that the wolf loves them too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’ll see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ll prove it to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claquesous is well aware that Babet doesn’t agree with his decision, but he does at least agree that it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>decision to make. Gueulemer has offered no comment either in favour or against and Montparnasse… Montparnasse is his oldest and best friend, so-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like shit.” Montparnasse makes a show of wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Like you’re about to throw up your feelings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He undermines his own statement a little by sitting down next to him all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come to make more fun bestiality jokes?” Claquesous greets him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you,” Montparnasse says airily, leaning back on the couch. “Wouldn’t count as bestiality accourding to </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>definition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not very interested in </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>definitions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parnasse puts on a wounded expression. “You never are, brute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous snorts in spite of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look in Montparnasse’s eyes warms a little, having gained his point and after a moment he says: “Faun’s so bloody excited. Going on and on about trust.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous meets his eyes, momentarily unable to fight the dread boiling in his stomach, and Montparnasse nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he hums, as if Claquesous actually managed to put something into words. “They’ll be fine though. Faun’s like…” He gives a wave with his hand. “A feral little cat. Or a fox or something.” His eyes twinkle as he holds back his grin. “You’re just a big mutt. No match at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous gives a sideways kick against Parnasse’s feet. “Asshole—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna ask Gueul to count how many times they call you puppy,” he jeers gleefully, reaching over in an attempt to pat him on his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sod off.” Claquesous slaps his hand away, familiar, comforting vexations melting through his anxiety. “And don’t call my partner a cat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parnasse whistles. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Partner</span>
  </em>
  <span>. My, my.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>his partner. “Tell me,” Claquesous sniffs. “Does your little herb collector like still being considered a one night stand after the twentieth night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luckily you’re not in a position to find out anything about what they do or do not like,” Montparnasse says smugly. “Where as </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> will no doubt be hearing all about </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>Faun liked, tomorrow morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s manipulative, hiding reassurances in insults. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s one of the things Claquesous appreciates most in Montparnasse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours </span>
  </em>
  <span>for Babet to come and get them. Fauntleroy has cleaned the entire kitchen by the time he finally shows up. They couldn't stand to be staring at the closed basement door all that time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet does not look happy. He has that tired, resigned sort of concern on his face that he usually does when he has given in to one of them. “Well, come on then,” he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy eagerly follows him into the hallway. They won't try to argue him out if his worries. They will </span>
  <em>
    <span>show</span>
  </em>
  <span> him that they are unfounded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he unlocks the basement door, they almost push past him to hurry down the stairs, but Babet’s hand lands on their shoulder, slowing them down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Faun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet's pale eyes are sharp and serious. “Be careful," he says. "Keep your distance. Don’t make any loud noises or sudden movements.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy doesn’t answer. It’s just Sous. Their own Sous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fauntleroy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, okay,” they mutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How much silver are you wearing?" His hand is still on their shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My pendant and my ring." They still don't feel good about it either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet sighs. "I guess that'll have to do—" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not wearing any silver," they point out defensively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All my buttons are silver," he replies grimly. "Come on."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At </span>
  <em>
    <span>last</span>
  </em>
  <span> he leads them down the stairs. Fauntleroy can feel their heart beating in their throat, but the anticipation dancing in their chest is joyful. They finally get to see him. There is still so much about Sous they don't understand and they are convinced that this will turn out to be the missing piece. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The basement is just one room, but it's not very brightly lit. Gueul is sitting directly underneath the only lamp hanging from the ceiling though, so naturally they see him first. He's sitting in a low, battered old chair and he looks round nervously when they enter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy gives him a quick smile and eagerly glance around. Gueul's chair is facing a corner of the room, so-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stop walking, Babet right beside them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...there he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wolf - a huge, dark-pelted wolf - is hidden away in the far left corner of the room. For a moment Faun’s heart leaps in their chest and then it sinks. The wolf’s paws are shackled to rings in the floor with chains. The room is bare around him, but they can see the signs of violence on the badly painted walls. Gueulemer's chair is well outside the reach of the short chains. In fact, every single shabby piece of furniture in here is out of reach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy looks at it all in dismay. No wonder Sous hates this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...hi—" they begin shakily and the animal fixes two dark yellow eyes on them. Their breath stutters. It’s the same colour they’ve seen flash in Sous’ eyes, but...there’s nothing human about it now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look around the barren, awful room again and misery twists in their gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always keep him like this?” they whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gueulemer nods soberly and Babet, with a gruff practicality that is clearly meant to cover a deep discomfort, explains:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A chain around his neck is too dangerous. Anything that would hold Sous, would choke the wolf, but the difference between his wrists and the wolf’s paws is not that big.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy disagrees. Those shackles look very tight. They remember the bruises on Sous’ wrists and feel faintly ill. “Sous...he wants this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet doesn’t quite meet their eyes. “He made me promise I’d never let him hurt any of us. That’s what I’m doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The misery stabs up into their chest and Fauntleroy can’t look away from the cowering, wild-eyed creature they know to be the person that cares about them most in this world. This is what he didn't want them to see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this can’t be right. It can’t be. The wolf doesn't hold their gaze, but those eyes. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> seen those eyes once before. They can almost feel Sous' fingers around their wrist again, pleading for them not to go. He shouldn’t be here, not like this. Chained in a barren corner on a cold concrete floor. It’s not—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over to the side, Gueulemer moves slightly out of his chair to pick up an open can of coke from the floor and the wolf </span>
  <em>
    <span>whimpers</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without stopping to think, Fauntleroy takes a step towards him. At once Babet grabs their wrist and janks them back and a beat later everything goes to hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a terrible clashing of vicious growling with rattling chains and Fauntleroy looks up just in time to see the wolf - to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sous </span>
  </em>
  <span>- lunging towards them. And then, even as the wolf cries out in pain and his paws twist underneath him as he pulls on the chains, Gueulemer rises from his seat, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>hits him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy screams. They does not know where Gueul got the stick he's thrashing with, but they don’t care. Before Babet can intervene, they’ve torn away from him and flown at Gueulemer nails first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yelps in surprise as they attack him and the wolf snarls and whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Faun—"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get your fucking hands off him!!" Their voice burns in their throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kick when Babet drags them off Gueulemer and further away from Sous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Faun, this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>necessary,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he snaps. “He—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy draws their knife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet's releases them abruptly, raising his hands in shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They back away from him, glaring at him and Gueulemer - who has dropped the stick and is staring at them in bewilderment - by turns. Their heart is pounding against their ribs and their anger is dancing in spots at the edges of their vision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hit him again, and I start taking fingers</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look at the wolf. He has gone back to cowering in his corner, but he’s still looking at them. Looking </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Faun—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't either of you know the first </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing about animal handling?" they snap. They tear off their silver pendant and roughly pull the ring from their finger, throwing them both aside with a shrill scatter of metal on concrete. These aren't protection. They're </span>
  <em>
    <span>weapons</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet shuts his mouth. Behind his grimace the look in his eyes is more troubled than they have seen in a very long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy resolutely turns their back on him. With slow, careful movements they turn to face the wolf. From the corner of their eye they see Gueul move, but Babet holds out an arm to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy raises their hands and puts the knife away. The wolf watches them intently, as if he understands. He must, surely. On some level. Those </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> the same eyes they've seen looking out of Sous' face so many times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…aren't they? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me,” they murmur and they take a small, slow step towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gueulemer lets out a pained sigh. “Faun he doesn’t—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” they snap, tears pricking in the corners of their eyes. They fix their attention on the wolf again, taking another step closer. “Claquesous, it’s Faun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No closer, Fauntleroy,” Babet warns, but they’re not listening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw </span>
  </em>
  <span>something. There was something in those amber eyes just now. They’re sure of it. Without looking away they start to lower themself down until they’re crouched on the ground, nearly at eye-level with the wolf. If he stood up he’d be higher. He really is immense. Now they’re closer they can see that his fur is completely in disarray and they have to physically fight the urge to rush over to fix it. Instead they sit there, crouched down and silent, for a long moment, before getting onto their hands and knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Faun,” Babet says tensely. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they’re already crawling towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf watches them, silent and unmoving, not even blinking. Fauntleroy stops, just out of his reach, and stretches out their hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the first sound of growling there is a squeak of Babet’s shoes on the floor, but this time it’s Gueulemer that holds him back, muttering something frantic. The wolf’s eyes darted in their direction immediately, but he hasn’t moved and Faunteroy breathes through the lump in their throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” they say softly. “It’s alright, Sous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bright eyes flit back to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy sits down where they are, as close as they can get without being in reach. “You’re alright,” they smile shakily. “I won’t touch you. Look…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hold out their hand, not close enough for the wolf to reach and with too slack an arm to be any kind of threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m staying right here,” they say gently. “And I’m not going to hurt you.” They swallow. “And you’re not going to hurt me. Because you’re my Claquesous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it is again, when they said his name. Just a flicker, but it’s there. It’s hard not to move, because they want to so badly. They want to be closer, to touch him, to reassure him. But they know they shouldn’t. So they sit, hand outstretched, and wait, murmuring softly every now and again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's like winning over a street dog, except the dog is also a man and they just have to get him to remember he loves them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, beginning with just a slight shift in his paws, the wolf moves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy hears Babet hiss behind them so they talk over him, their voice nothing but gentleness. “Hey, are you coming to say hi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf inches closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember what I smell like?” They smile. “I think Sous knows what I smell like, so you will too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Very slowly the large snout nudges towards them. But the wolf is slow and cautious. His teeth are not bared, he hardly makes a sound. It's the chains on his paws that make noise, clanging miserably as they drag along the concrete floor. But the wolf isn't moving fast enough to hurt himself this time. He creeps closer and closer, and then, with a movement that seems almost shy, he sniffs their hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind them Babet lets out a noisy breath. “Jesus Christ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They find themself lying on the floor when they wake up. Confused and startled for a long, desoriënted moment, before they see the dark shape or ragged fur and everything comes flooding back. The wolf is lying down as well. By the looks of it he is still asleep and he has gotten so close Fauntleroy would only have to reach out to stroke him. In fact...he’s laid down as close to them as his chains could possibly allow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rapidly getting choked up with emotion again Fauntleroy sits up and their stiff limbs ache with the unfair treatment they have received. They spent almost the entire night sitting on the floor, just out of the wolf’s reach, letting him sniff their hands as they talked to him gently. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>listened</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Fauntleroy is absolutely certain of that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just look at him now! He’s as meek as a-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind them, someone clears their throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy looks around. Gueulemer and Babet are both looking at them with the blank sort of expression that is left after the shock and bewilderment has simply run out. Gueulemer, round the fraying edges of his fatigue, looks a bit uncertain. Babet, however, merely looks grim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nearly dawn,” he says stiffly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They meet his gaze head on. “And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll wake up soon. He always does. You should leave before the transformation begins.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No way in fucking hell. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something like anger - or...fear? - glitters in Babet’s eyes, but Gueulemer cuts in urgently:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He won’t want you to see this, Faun. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy feels their insides twist. They look at the wolf, at Sous, lying curled up on the cold floor, and give a single, angry shake of their head. “Fuck off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet makes an impatient, but almost pleading noise. “We won’t hurt him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look round sharply. “Yeah. And I’m not leaving.” These are both facts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll leave too,” Gueulemer says suddenly. “...if that helps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy feels a pang. Gueulemer is their friend. He’s Sous friend. Sous trusts him. Sous… Sous knows what happens to him every moon. They think of the bruises on his face and want to cry. Slowly, they look at Gueul. He doesn’t look like he might cry. He looks like he’s way past that by now. It’s been years…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” they mutter. “You should stay. But I’m staying too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shudder ripples through the wolf, faint but sudden and Babet makes an abrupt and frantic noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least come over here,” he urges. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Faun.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy can feel every fibre in their body wanting to stay right where they are. But they can also feel the weight in Babet’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet, who has been as kind to them as he is ruthless towards his adversaries. Who took Claquesous and Montparnasse in and taught them to rule Paris. Who treats them all like kids at times, who patches them up when they’re hurt and loses his shit when they endanger themselves. Babet who is staring at them, but who has not yet taken a single step towards them to move them by force.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy has barely gotten to their feet and crossed the room towards him, or a sudden, painful noise escapes from the wolf’s throat. They whirl around. Ready to run back, ready to apologise for leaving him, but instead they freeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Violent convulsions shake the wolf’s body as his eyes snap open. There is red in the yellow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet has placed a hand on their shoulder, but Fauntleroy barely feels it. They can’t move. They can only watch. And it’s terrible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a fight. A violent, painful fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf’s maw opens in a desperate cry and Fauntleroy hears a similar sound escape their own throat. Sous told them they would be afraid. They have not been afraid a single second up till this point. But right now they’re terrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then suddenly, almost jarringly so, the cry changes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Babet has draped the blanket over him they are already cradling his head in their lap. Claquesous groans, giving no indication that he even knows what’s going on, but at least he does not seem scared. Babet avoids their eyes, silently undoing the shackles on his wrists and ankles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he’s free Claqueous pulls his arms and legs in close to his body, with so childlike a movement that Fauntleroy nearly whimpers. They swallow it down and try for an affectionate whisper instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey… Are you awake?” They gently stroke some of his wild hair out of his face. There is a bruise on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does not immediately react to their voice, but he turns his face in the direction of their movement and his eyes open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re dark again, almost black.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Faun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I’m right here,” they breathe. There is a shaking deep in their chest. “It’s okay. I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groans, his eyes closing again for a moment. “You took off the silver.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>silver</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” They bite their lip to keep from snapping further and continue trying to fix his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous sighs. His breathing is still uneven but his body is oddly still. He looks up at them again. “Did you stay here all night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t remember?” Fauntleroy asks, worry and a very unwelcome stab of disappointment warring in their mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flutter of uncertainty passes over his face. “I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t. He doesn’t remember.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter,” they hush. “I’ll tell you, I promise, but lets- let’s get some actual sleep first, okay? In a bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks so exhausted and they’re tired too. Tired and sore. Fauntleroy glances back at Babet and Gueulemer. They’re both watching, both pretending not to, and both looking rather guilty, but neither of them seems to disagree with their suggestion. Apparently it really is over this abruptly. Just like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look down at Sous again. “...or do you need some more time to rest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous stirs, lifting his head up off their lap. “No,” he grunts. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He manages a single look at Babet as he gets up. Babet meets his gaze and shakes his head with a weary shrug. They had both known Fauntleroy would probably refuse to stick to their rules. Apparently they had still underestimated them. A dim part of him seems to remember the image of them lying on the floor. It nearly turned his stomach when the first flash of it connected in his brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they're not hurt. They seem concerned with nothing but </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> welfare, they're trying to help him walk for fuck's sake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally he'd get dressed first. He does have some clothes here, but under the circumstances that would be more uncomfortable than just letting them take him upstairs. He's wrapped in the blanket, it's fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Does it hurt very bad?" Fauntleroy mutters when they reach the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, deciding not to ask what exactly they mean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want to take a shower or…?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes," he says automatically, but Faun is still trying to cling to his arm through the blanket and… "Later- unless you think?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I don't think you need to," they say hastily. "Or have to." They sigh. "I want a nap."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances at them. They look pale and tired. He hums sympathetically and without really thinking about it he turns towards his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faun follows him, closing the door behind them both like this is exactly what they were expecting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, they do share their beds fairly often by now. It's… It's nice. There's no two ways about it. Sleeping next to Faun is comfortable. He has taken to it far more easily than he had ever expected. So much so that sleeping without them that the contrast with sleeping </span>
  <em>
    <span>without </span>
  </em>
  <span>them is becoming...unpleasant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not yet sure how he feels about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy turns their back to him while they get rid of their shirt and jeans, suddenly almost shy, and they don’t look at him until he’s by their side again, now wearing pyjama pants and looking slightly more composed. His hair is still a wild mane though and there are shadows under his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches out, slowly, and Fauntleroy moves to lean against his chest with a sigh of relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You alright, Bouquetière?” he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” they whisper. “Yes, I am. Thank you, for letting me stay with you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous makes a strange noise and they feel his left hand stroke uncertainly over their hair. “It didn’t— Did I hurt you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy glances up at him. “No! No of course not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks back at them with a sharp, self-reproaching suspicion in his eyes. “When I woke you were so close- too close.” His breathing stutters. “Why did you take off the silver?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy takes hold of his forearms, careful not to touch his wrists. They don’t look badly bruised, but they must hurt. “You- The wolf didn’t hurt me.” Gently they pull him closer towards the bed. “I’m good, I promise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They push the duvet out the the way and crawl into the bed, coaxing Sous to follow them and he does. But he still looks extremely uneasy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy snuggles against him. “We’ll talk, later,” they mumble. “It’s bedtime now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually Claquesous does start to relax beside them and Fauntleroy quietly traces patterns on his chest for a long time after his breathing has gone deep and sleepy. They aren’t quite awake themself, half their mind lost to drowsy visions of dark fur and pleading yellow eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next month they will be better prepared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Sous expects them to give up after just one try, he’s dead wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rest their head against his chest. “...I won’t let you get hurt again.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Usually his conversations with Gueulemer are at least seventy five percent silences of mutual understanding, that’s what Claquesous is comfortable with, but right now that doesn’t cut it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like you’re gonna change their mind,” Gueulemer mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to fucking tell me that,” he grunts back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gueulemer chucks another stack of documents in the barrel, feeding it to the flames. “Could tell them no, if you really don’t want them to be there again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous doesn’t answer that. Telling Fauntleroy no is a purely theoretical option, it’s never actually going to happen. In all the time he has known them he has never felt the need to develop that particular skill. They never ask him for anything he doesn’t want to give.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this time they don’t know what they’re asking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares into the flames. “...I thought once would be enough to put them off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gueul gives him a sideways glance. “Opposite, more like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous lets out a humourless snort, but only to cover up the other noises stuck in his throat. He never meant for Faun to see him transform, in either direction. Seeing the wolf is one thing, seeing him </span>
  <em>
    <span>change-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Gueulemer mutters, poking idly at the fire with a sawn off piece of wood. “Seemed almost like they were right, that it did recognize them- or you did, behind it all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are some very faint, worrying bits of memory that give him a headache whenever he tries to chase them that have been telling him the same thing. But it doesn’t work like that. It has never worked like that. “Bullshit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gueulemer shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe the wolf just likes them then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s nothing new. Claquesous knows that the wolf likes Faun. It has made that </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>clear. But what the wolf wants has never fucking mattered. The problem is that Faun...the way Faun talks, it seems like they like the wolf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to Gueulemer, feeling the heat of the fire shift to only one half of his face. “You have to keep them away from it, Gueul. Promise me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gueulemer looks back at him with incredulity. “I thought they were gonna go for my eyes last time,” he says. “They pulled a knife on Babet!” He almost sounds proud. “Sous, to tell the truth, I don’t know if they’ll let </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>anywhere near it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous grabs at his forehead, rubbing his temples. Fauntleroy had been genuinely angry with him when he told them that hitting the wolf was a necessity to control it. Angry and a sort of sad that he really couldn’t bear to witness. “Just—" He turns away again. “During the transformation. I’ll tell them not to, I’ll make them </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But, Gueul just fucking keep them out of reach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That I’m gonna end up split between it and me long enough to try and get to them, that’s what,” he snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment it looks like Gueulemer is going to say something, but instead he just gives a short nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous exhales, grabbing the edge of the barrel with his gloved hands and leaning as close to the flames as he can bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gueul hums vaguely at the back of his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just goes to show the stories are all bullshit. They always say werewolves are scared of fire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous doesn’t answer. He stares at the flames and listens to the wolf whimper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy hangs against Sous from behind, kneeling on the floor with their arms draped down over his shoulders. They glare at how he’s shackling his own legs through the haze of his untied hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is bullshit, you know that right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve mentioned it before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They press their mouth to his bare skin. Not a kiss, but a means to quiet themself. They shouldn’t argue with him. Not now. They have to pick their battles, and Sous shouldn’t get upset right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous’ shoulders sag a little and he grabs one of their hands. “You don’t have to stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going anywhere, so don’t try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs and at least part of it sounds genuine. “Come here,” he hums, pulling gently on their wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They let go of him and move to sit in front of him. It’s strange. Because they disagree with every single bit of this situation, but he looks oddly beautiful. With his hair loose and his chest bare, the folds of the blanket pooled around his waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy lets him take their hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All I want is to keep you safe,” he murmurs. “You know that right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know…” They look up into his eyes. “But you won’t let me help keep </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tired grin flickers on his face. “You can do to me whatever you like. Just stay away from the wolf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How?</span>
  </em>
  <span> How does he not understand that those two things </span>
  <em>
    <span>do not go together?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sous, you—" He pulls on their hand as they squeeze it and they glance anxiously up at his face again. “Sous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back—" He’s still holding on to them but he’s trying to push them away at the same time. His voice is suddenly strained in a way it wasn’t a moment before. “Get back. Now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous’ is shaking and Fauntleroy’s only instinct is to touch his face. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Go</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a growl, a snarl, barely a word, and it makes them start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Move, Faun,” Babet orders, suddenly beside them and he snatches Claquesous’ hands away from them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous’ body twists wildly and Babet’s movements are so sudden as he forces Sous’ wrists into the shackles, that they cannot help scrambling back a bit across the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Gueulemer mutters, emerging from the same corner Babet just did, and they allow him to help them to their feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes are still on Sous though and to their horror Babet gets up and </span>
  <em>
    <span>leaves </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. He leaves him thrashing on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gueul,” they breathe. “Gueul we can’t—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A terrible sound like creaking wood splits the air and Claquesous screams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy feels Gueulemer’s arm wrap around their waist as soon as they move. He drags them backwards, away from Sous and they struggle uselessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” they cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promised him,” Gueulemer grunts, determination drowning out the guilt in his voice. “He made me promise, Faun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous is no longer screaming, he’s growling and snarling, his limbs jerking uncontrollably as he writhes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gulping sob escapes Fauntleroy’s throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told you it was bad,” Gueulemer mutters. He’s still holding them back and not being able to be near Sous is like being choked. He no longer looks human, he looks like an animal dragged out of hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s in </span>
  <em>
    <span>pain</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” they plead. “He needs </span>
  <em>
    <span>comfort</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Gueul, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please—"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not getting near him until it’s over, Faun.” Babet’s voice is shaken, but firm. “Too fucking dangerous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s chained!” Somehow they lack the strength to fight for freedom of movement with the viciousness it would take to break free of someone like Gueul, but they still struggle. Behind Babet the shuddering form now nearly looks like a wolf. A miserable, </span>
  <em>
    <span>suffering </span>
  </em>
  <span>wolf. “What could he possibly do to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet meets their eyes with a grim look. “He’s broken out of them before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They gape. “How?” They look at the wolf, shuddering on the floor in a heap of anger and pain. Those chains look unbreakable. They also don’t look like they’ve been replaced recently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t want to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The suffering noises stop. Heavy, laboured animal breathing fills the the room and just for a moment Gueulemer’s grip on them loosens. Fauntleroy has twisted out of his arms and ran at the wolf before either he or Babet can do anything to stop them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fall to their knees, their hands desperately clutching their own sides to keep from touching what right now must be a terrified animal. “Sous,” they breathe. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sous</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two amber eyes blink open and meet theirs. The wolf lifts his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy’s breath stutters from their throat. “See!” they gasp, the uncried tears from a moment before suddenly stinging in their eyes. “He knows who I am. I...I don’t know what part of him recognises me, but he knows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve only seen it once, Faun,” Babet says behind them, low and uncertain, and Fauntleroy feels a flash of heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not true!” They glance back at him defiantly. “I know that he knows me.” They swallow and look back at the wolf again, furiously blinking the sting from their eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears drip down their face and suddenly, with a strange cowering movement, the wolf shies away from them. He lets out a distressed wimper, slinking back to the dull sound of the dragging chains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic surges in Fauntleroy’s chest. Why is he-? The wolf lets out a miserable whine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Fauntleroy scrambles to sit upright, hastily wiping their face with their sleeve. “No, no, hey, come back! I’m not hurt. It’s okay...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They move pleadingly towards him, but the wolf presses himself flat against the floor as if someone screamed at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry—" Fauntleroy breathes. “I’m sorry…” They retreat to their previous spot, crouching anxiously, not quite seated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The amber eyes are the only thing about the wolf that moves. He looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>sad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy exhales and inhales as slowly and steadily as they can. They mustn’t cry again. “It’s okay,” they repeat. “I’m okay. That just- that looked like it hurt a lot. I don’t like seeing you hurt, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is no recognition in the wolf’s eyes, but there is still sadness. No anger. No violence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sadness</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why you’re sad, right?” they say, trying to smile through the shaking of their voice. “Because I looked hurt. We get sad when we see the people we love hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit down on the floor, crossing their legs. This time their smile feels better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry if it looked like I wasn’t happy to see you. I really wanted to see you again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind them Babet makes a noise, but Fauntleroy won’t allow themself to be distracted right now and the wolf doesn’t even shift his gaze. He’s looking right at them, his head still pressed to the ground but not quite as miserably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t think I was going to let you be alone again, did you?” they coax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf makes a soft noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy smiles. “Of course I wasn’t. And look—" They hold up their hands. “No silver.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the wolf, with a very slow and cautious movements, lifts up his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>pain pain pain</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry it hurts this much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re being so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>good?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you next moon, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Moon- Faun-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a good wolf. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>wolf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>good wolf</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>good Faun</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Faun</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Faun</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Faun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous groans as the coughing fit that follows his attempt at speaking shakes his ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy’s voice is humming something close above him and the chains are already being taken off his wrists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, that went smoothly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous frowns at the noise. That was loud. “Gueul?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t move,” Babet says by his feet and a moment later he’s free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is extremely disorienting to have his ears functional before his eyes, but he finally manages to stop squeezing them shut against the light. Faun is leaning over him, looking shakily relieved and genuinely smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there,” they whisper, their voice wobbling slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the anxiety beating in his chest he can’t keep himself from smiling. Even if it turns out closer to a grimace. They’re right here with him, again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least tell me you didn’t attack Gueul this time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One corner of their mouth trembles. “Only a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t even feel it,” Gueul hums somewhere beyond his line of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous looks up at Fauntleroy. Their expression is apologetic, but only on the surface. Not at its core.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs and instead of sitting up, he shifts his weight until he can lie against Faun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’ll be upstairs.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy looks up with a slight start. Babet is already making his way over to the door, clearly avoiding to look at either of them. Gueulemer is a bit slower. He looks over his shoulder before climbing the stairs and Fauntleroy tries to smile reassuringly. It feels like he needs that anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives them a look and they nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That a look that’s usually just for when a job has gone sour. ‘You’ll look after him won’t you?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look back down at Sous. He doesn’t look hurt. Not like last time. He just looks thoroughly exhausted. They gently touch his face, stroking his tangled hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous mutters something indistinct. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes open to look at them again. “How much is ‘only a little’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a smile in his eyes, so they smile too. “Hardly any,” they murmur. “He...he wouldn’t let me near you during the transformation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile in his eyes turns to something more painful. “He kept his word then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sigh, fussing with his hair and the blanket rather than trying to answer that. The transformation </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been horrible, but they are certain they could have helped. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>devastation </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the wolf’s eyes at their tears. No one has ever been so upset to see them sad. No one but Sous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faun looks worried again. Troubled. Slowly, making sure not to do anything that might make him wince and upset them further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you feel?” they ask, a cool hand coming to rest on his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better than usual.” That’s an honest answer. And one they’re more likely to believe than “fine”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you don’t want me to get too close,” they whisper. “But I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Or maybe he doesn’t, but he thinks he does. “But it’s dangerous, Faun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t look at him, staring at his hand instead. There is still a faint mark there from the burn of the silver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babet says you broke out once...” They glance up and he nods stiffly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s what nearly happened that terrible night. The one that left him looking so bad that he couldn’t hide it from them the morning after. The morning his lies began to fall apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy’s eyes dart to the chains and then back at him. “...how?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember what I do when the wolf takes over,” he replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shards. Fragments. Terrifying flashes. “Nothing,” he lies. He remembers the broken wrists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you weren’t violent at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Fauntleroy’s hand closes around his. “You- the wolf isn’t aggressive. Not towards me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Memories and realisations dance just out of his reach. The part of his being where feral instinct reins is tired and silent. “I wish I could believe that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask Gueul! Ask Babet! Sous—" They squeeze his hand hard enough for him to clasp his other hand over it in an attempt to comfort them. “Sous, I mean it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They think he’s doubting them. That’s not what this is about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Faun…” He weighs his words carefully. “Don’t let me hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy frowns, their pale eyebrows furrowing above their large, sincere eyes. They frown as they reach up to touch his face and they frown as they pull him closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re frowning right up until the point that they kiss him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sunlight is streaming into Fauntleroy’s room, flooding their bed with warm light that makes their freshly re-dyed hair seem almost fluorescently pink. They are basking, Claquesous cannot think of any other word for it, and he is watching them, lounging in the only corner of partial shadow of the bed. The sunlight is almost painfully bright. He’s on the wrong side of the waxing moon and his eyes are growing sensitive again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faun has their eyes closed and they could have passed for asleep if it had not been for their occasional lazy stretching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sous…” they purr, a slight whine in their voice as they arch their back off the mattress for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has no idea if they are aware he was already looking at them, but it’s completely beyond him to look away. “Mm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you so far </span>
  <em>
    <span>away</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way their worn t-shirt has ridden up to expose their stomach is insanely tempting. But the urge to rip the fabric just to hear the sound is as strong as the wish to smooth his hand over their skin and make them squeal. He blinks, slowly. “Why are you so insistent on melting yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy opens one squinting eye and pouts at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks away, softening the movement with a smile, he’s suddenly uncomfortably uncertain which colour his eyes are.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faun sighs, stretching out one bare leg to nudge against his hip. “Can I hear another sonnet then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...they can have </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever </span>
  </em>
  <span>they want. “Sure. Pick a number.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No—" They lift up their hand, shielding their eyes from the sun so they can look at him fully. “You pick one. A special one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A special one. They’re still looking at him and suddenly all one hundred and fifty four of Shakespeare's sonnets are all tangling up in his head. He appreciates poetry for the cleverness of language more than how they do, for the beauty. Something special-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy is watching him with a sort of fond amusement on their face, still shielding their eyes and their curls loosely framing their face...</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness;</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport;</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Both grace and faults are lov'd of more and less:</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thou mak'st faults graces that to thee resort.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They close their eyes again, smiling as he lets his voice fall in the familiar rhythm of the sentence structure. For some reason they like him reciting even more than him reading to them. He isn’t really thinking about the words as he says them, that comes with knowing things by heart. But he knows this one by heart not because it’s famous or remarkable, but because… Because he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“As on the finger of a throned queen</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>The basest jewel will be well esteem'd,</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>So are those errors that in thee are seen</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>To truths translated, and for true things deem'd.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A cloud must be drifting in front of the sun, because the bright light dims slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy opens their eyes again and his voice falters. The pink of their curls and the blue of their eyes seem to darken in the softer light. They look up at him expectantly and he starts again, the words scattering oddly in his mind as he takes in the look in their eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How many lambs might the stern wolf betray,</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>If like a lamb he could his looks translate!</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>How many gazers mightst thou lead away,</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state!</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>But do not so, I love thee in such sort,</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em></em>
  <span>As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has read those words so many times. They’ve never felt so heavy in his mouth before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy smiles, soft and pleased all over, and pushes themself up on their elbows a little. “But is the question how many lambs a wolf might lead away if he looked like a lamb… Or how easily a </span>
  <em>
    <span>wolf </span>
  </em>
  <span>would follow anything that looked like a lamb?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being with Faun is all risk. They are risking their safety. He is risking them seeing straight through him. “That depends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On whether Shakespeare knew someone like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laugh, delight sparking in their eyes, and the very moment they sit up in a rush of tousled curls the sunlight comes flooding back, lighting up their whole being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus,” he breathes and he leans in to kiss them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy hums gleefully into the kiss, winding their arms around his neck and doing their level best to drag him down until he gives in and ends up lying in the sun with them. They break out of the kiss to laugh at him and he hums a muffled protest against their neck before kissing them again. With practiced skill Faun manages to end up on top of him and when they pull away they lean over him, arranging themself in such a way that they keep the sun from shining in his eyes. Their hair looks almost like it’s glowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God they’re-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sous, I want to ask your permission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Caution rears its head immediately. They aren’t teasing. “Permission for what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit up a little, straddling his lap and he has to sit up and turn his head to keep looking at them without squinting at the sun. “I don’t want to stay away from you anymore during your next transformation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sputters in protest, taking unpleasantly by surprise. “But you’ve been—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>closer</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sous,” they say urgently and their hands land pleadingly on his shoulders. “You pull on your chains, I mean - the wolf pulls on his chains to be near me. He does. And I want to be near you too. It’s not fair, Sous. I know you’re in there but you can’t hear you and I can’t touch you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. No they can’t. For the first time Faun’s weight on top of him feels almost heavy. “Faun, what if—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will leave the chains, if you want,” they interrupt. “But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to let me touch him if he asks for it. Comfort him in a way he understands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Understands—"</span>
  </em>
  <span> The word hurts in his throat.  “That thing doesn’t—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He understands, Sous!” They are almost pressed against him, fingers digging into his shoulders with so much strength that it should not still feel so gentle. “He understands and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>hurt me. Never. You have to let me be there for you, not just watch how you hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he can see is them. Wild in their sincerity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter that you’re a wolf. You’re still mine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word hisses like a drop of molten lead, burning everything in its path. Faun’s eyes are blue like the darkest moonlight and they have him cornered between their affection and his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy blinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s never been a good enough liar around them, so they must already know, but it’s all of him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All </span>
  </em>
  <span>of him loves them. He can feel it in the way the words leave his mouth. He can </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear </span>
  </em>
  <span>it in the way the wolf howls at the back of his mind on the nights leading up to full moon when he forces himself to sleep alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For better or for worse, it’s true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...and maybe that means they’re right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faun’s arms wrap around his neck, their sun-warmed skin pressed to his as they press their forehead to his. They don’t ask for an explanation. They don’t even press for an answer. They just press against him until he hugs them to his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time. This time they’re going to get it right. They don’t argue against the chains and get out of the way so Babet can put the shackles on in good time. Without them Sous would be scared of the wolf escaping. He can’t be scared. Neither of them can be scared. That’s the first thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for the second-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You keep Babet away,” they whisper urgently at Gueulemer. He’s almost standing with his back against the wall and he glances unhappily over their head, to Babet and Claquesous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s only doing this cause we never found another way,” he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gueul look at me.” Fauntleroy makes sure to gentle their voice. “I know. You both did whatever you could.” They’re still angry about it. But it’s no use. And their friends don’t deserve it. “I will find a better way though, and you’re gonna help me do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mutters something indistinguishable, but they press on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sous made you promise to keep me safe, didn’t he? Well, you can keep me safe by staying out of the way and keeping Babet away. I can take care of the wolf, but only if he doesn’t get scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as they begin talking about the wolf the faint look of guilt is back in Gueulemer’s eyes. He nods. “Okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy smiles a determined little smile. “Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They glance at their phone and promptly turn around. They checked the exact time of the moonrise and they must be prepared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous looks up at them, tense and looking almost feverish. “Faun—" he mutters. “Faun, I don’t—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s gonna be okay.” They kneel down in front of him and he shuts his mouth. They have to make sure he doesn’t worry. So he doesn’t fight. “Check with me for a sec,” they say gently. “How far do the chains reach?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They move back and he follows, bit by bit, until he cannot go any further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How far could the wolf reach from here?” Fauntleroy asks, keeping their voice calm and steady. They glance round at Gueul and Babet, who are watching in bemused silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About...half a metre more,” Babet mutters. “Give or take.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy gets to their feet and takes another step back. “This is absolutely safe then, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet makes a strange sound as he takes in a breath to speak, but Gueulemer interrupts. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” they say firmly, hiding their gratitude in favour of smiling at Sous. “Then I will stay right here until you have transformed completely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t speak, but moves back to his former position, looking back at them almost doubtingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise,” they say sincerely. “I’ll stay out of your way for as long as the change lasts and you’re out of control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot </span>
  </em>
  <span>be worrying about their safety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous eyes, still dark and in control, fix on them intently. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise,” they repeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They exhale quietly. Okay. A few minutes to go. “Can I kiss you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t answer, doesn’t nod, but he gives them as inviting a look as he’s likely to give with Babet close enough to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy walks over to him and kneels again, pressing a short kiss on his mouth and cupping his face for a moment rather than grasping his hand. They don’t want to feel the chains. “I love you,” they murmur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, they let go of him, but they know they have to. No screaming this time. No crying, no struggle. They sit down at the decided spot, safely out of reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to wait there?” he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right here.” They’re trying not to force any cheer into their voice, just determination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Claquesous shifts uncomfortably. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You alright?” they ask softly. Oh they do want to get closer. They want to hold him and hug him and stroke his hair. But they can’t. Not this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous nods, but he’s clenching his fists where they are resting on the floor. Even so his shoulders are beginning to shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sous, look at me,” they say, firm and reassuring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does and they hold on to a moment of pure conviction before speaking. “It’s going to be alright this time. It’s going to go well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath catches in his throat and for a split second yellow lights up in the dark of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy’s heart jumps, but they stay put. “It’s okay, Sous. I’m here. Just look at me—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he does look at them, even as the wild yellow fills his eyes, even as his limbs begin to jerk in opposite directions. Fauntleroy braces themself and keeps talking. Their heart is pounding, but all they can truly think about is that he’s not trashing. He’s not screaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous doubles over and howls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You- you’re doing so well.” They feel lightheaded, something frantic trying to pull on their mind, but they don’t listen. “I know it hurts, but you’re good- you’re so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way he writhes and whines is still awful, but even as Fauntleroy keeps babbling, keeps calling his attention back to him with reassuring, repetitive promises, they can tell he isn’t thrashing like last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They can hear the shuffling behind them, but they don’t look. They have to trust Gueulemer and Babet will stay put. Have to trust that Gueul will stop Babet if he has to. They have to keep talking. Have to keep looking. “Almost there,” they breathe, fighting down their own shaking. “Almost there—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The writhing stops and for a moment all that is audible is the groaning panting of what must be the wolf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” Fauntleroy coos. “That’s better isn’t it?” But they can’t actually see if it’s better. It’s almost as if he’s trying to hide under the blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly a large, unkempt snout shakes free from the blanket and the wolf, still frantic and with wide, amber eyes, lets out a miserable whine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you are!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy can feel their head spin. That was… That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>compared to last time. They babble over their own elated relief, addressing the wolf as clearly as they can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at you. You’re very good, you know. Very clever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf breathes noisily, eyes fixed on them in uncertainty, and shakes the blanket off further. As soon as he gets up on his paws Fauntleroy is reminded of how massive he is, but he’s not trying to be imposing. If anything he’s trying to make himself look small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But - and they are suddenly very aware of the shuffling of feet in the corner - perhaps it does not look like that to everyone. The massive paws are bent, the head turned down. To someone who doesn’t know better, that might look like an animal about to pounce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Sous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is no recognition in the yellow eyes, but the wolf does look at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you do something for me? Can you lay down?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf stares at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you lay down I can come over,” they coax. “Is that a good deal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, the wolf takes a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you can stay!” they say encouragingly. “But why don’t you lay down.” They rock forward in their sitting position and pat the ground in front of them. “Go on. Lie down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf shifts his weight, but suddenly the yellow eyes dart to the other end of the room and a low growl starts in his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fauntleroy says firmly. “Look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The eyes fix on them again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? That’s much better. It’s alright. They’re not going to come any closer. You can lie down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pat the ground again and slowly, very slowly, the beast takes a heavy step forward, shifts its paws awkwardly against the weight of the chains, and lies down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy could cry. Instead they coo their praise at him and crawl towards him with their heart thumping in hurried triumph. “You’re so good. You’re wonderful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf keeps his head pressed to the ground, glancing up at them silently, but he whines when they’re right beside him, nearly shifting towards them. Yes, towards them, they didn’t imagine that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes you are,” they whisper. “Wonderful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hold out their hand to let him sniff it, but he barely moves. Fauntleroy is close enough to feel the heat coming off him now, but they also feel him tremble. ...is he scared?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” they murmur, moving as slowly and carefully as they can. “Hey… You’re so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they smooth back the coarse fur on his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the shock in the yellow eyes that hits them the hardest. The absolute bewilderment. They stroke him again and he whines with a soft, high noise. Like a puppy. Fauntleroy’s smile shakes and they swallow hard as they begin scratching him behind his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes nearly close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy feels almost faint, too much triumph and relief and emotion still fizzing in their body, but the wolf is warm and heavy and solid. Before they know it they have two hands buried in his fur. He’d be soft, they can tell, if he was properly looked after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he’s letting them pet him. He’s barely moving, but he’s letting them pet and scratch him and his snout nudges just a little closer to them whenever they move their hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look back at Babet and Gueulemer, eyes bright and one sigh away from crying. They are both staring, standing against the far wall with sagging shoulders. But before they can even speak the wolf makes a whimpering sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, shh, it’s okay,” they say hastily, turning fully in his direction again and scratching under the giant muzzle. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look in the yellow eyes is animal, but there’s something extremely familiar about it. Something adoring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right here with you,” they whisper. “The entire night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can hear their voice. It’s all he’s aware of. Faun is talking to him and he’s not fighting. He? He’s not fighting? The </span>
  <em>
    <span>wolf’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>not fighting. He- It-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s the familiar sensation of the blanket against his skin. And the clink of keys. Already? But he doesn’t hear Babet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you awake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous opens his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy is leaning over him, blocking out the light from overhead. Their eyes are large and dark in the half-shadow and they’re smiling as if they’re proud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They smile. “Hey, handsome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at them and in his confusion he sits up. He blinks at the light, astonished to see only Gueul. Babet isn’t here. Fauntleroy hums encouragingly beside him and Gueulemer silently holds up a hand in greeting. Claquesous looks down at his own body and for a moment he doubts whether he is truly awake. There’s no pain to his limbs, hardly a heaviness to his head. Yes there’s a sting to his eyes, but-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Faun—" Even as he says the words he feels like part of his mind is slipping. “Did- did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>pet </span>
  </em>
  <span>me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy’s eyes are like goddamn stars. "You </span>
  <em>
    <span>remember!</span>
  </em>
  <span>" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly their hands are cupping his face and a bewildering, displaced feeling of deja-vu grabs at his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Faun beams. “And you were wonderful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I d- it didn’t hurt you?” He doesn’t know if what he’s feeling right now is relief, gratitude or disbelief, but it’s too much to feel at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Fauntleroy says. They stroke his cheek with their thumb, their hand resting against the side of his neck. “You're not a bad wolf, Sous. Dangerous, sure, but not to the people you trust. Not to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous swallows. It is silent in the moonsick part of his mind. But it is a mindful silence. “...where is Babet?” he asks weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He makes your wolf nervous,” Faun says carefully. “We thought it was better if he left after a while.” They smile. “Gueul stayed to keep his promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bows his head, his own hand coming up to press against Faun’s. How is he supposed to-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could have left,” Gueulemer suddenly speaks up. “Sous, they told it - they told him to lie down and he did. Didn’t move, didn’t nothing.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous looks at them. “You told it to lie down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you could pet it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their expression is as affectionate as it is defiant. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have to fight this time. He knows that much. There was no dragging the wolf back into the dark, clawing and howling. No beating it into submission and silence while the moonlight drained away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel he didn’t fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because it’s still here. Still here, but back where it belongs. And not fighting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s looking at Fauntleroy, he’s holding their hand, but he doesn’t ask the questions out loud. It isn’t meant for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘...why?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wordless voice born from the undertones of his own voice stirs in the dark edges of his being to give an answer he already knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Faun</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Special shout-out to SaintClaire for being an absolute gem &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next time is even better, even easier. Babet and Gueulemer leave as soon as the transformation is over and Fauntleroy has a hard time explaining to Sous how </span>
  <em>
    <span>proud </span>
  </em>
  <span>they are of his wolf. He was so much calmer than last time. He spent a while looking suspiciously through the room as if he expected the others to be hidden somewhere, but after he was sure they were alone he was as meek as a puppy, begging for pets and trying to fall asleep on them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even putting just half of what they feel about that into words seems an impossible task. And Sous, uncharacteristically so, seems to be having a hard time listening. He won’t look at them half of the time and he seems almost embarrassed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, maybe they do not need to tell him. Fauntleroy does suspect that on some level he is starting to remember what happens while he is a wolf. Perhaps that’s what is making him uncomfortable. Still, there is one thing they absolutely have to discuss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sous,” they urge, nudging against him until they truly have his attention. “Listen- I want to redecorate the basement a bit."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls a face. "Why? So the wolf can destroy it?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They can’t help but feel a little pang of disappointment, but they mask it with a purposefully theatrical click of their tongue. "You won't. I'll have you know you've been </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>well behaved."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sous still looks disgruntled. “Fine. What do you want to bring then?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"A mattress. Some pillows. Maybe a duvet."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stares at them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm done lying on the floor!” they say decidedly. “Oh, and some toys and stuff?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now he looks even more bewildered. “T- what </span>
  <em>
    <span>stuff?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy’s enthusiasm dampens a little. He’s not taking this as well as they had hoped. “...like a brush?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous looks away. “I… I understand you don’t want to sit on the floor all the time,” he says stiffly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I also don’t want </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>to lie on a cold floor all night,” they point out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes—" he says, badly repressed discomfort dripping off his voice. “Well. You can dress the place up however you want.” He looks up. “But there’s no need to go encouraging him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy presses their lips together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “...what exactly do you mean by that?” they ask cautiously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No toys,” Sous grunts. “Absolutely unnecessary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He disappears in the direction of the kitchen and Fauntleroy watches him go with a calculating frown on their face. Clearly he doesn’t like the idea. They prefer not to do anything that makes him uncomfortable, certainly if it concerns his transformations. But in this case… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’ll get Gueul to help them, they decide. Maybe he knows how to do this right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Judging from how eager Gueulemer is to give them a hand he must feel more guilty than Fauntleroy had suspected. True, hauling a foam mattress and an old couch downstairs is barely enough to make him break a sweat, but he’s being unusually enthusiastic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did suggest getting, um, a dog bed or something,” he mutters as they pull a sturdy cover over the mattress. “But Babet said that the wolf just destroyed anything you put near him and Sous—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy looks up at him. “Sous what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gueulemer plucks on a loose thread on the cover. “Said he didn’t want anything. Or- didn’t want to give the wolf anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. Fauntleroy bites their lips. So that’s how he sees it. Well, they’ll have to take it slow then. Except- “Do you know why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why isn’t the wolf allowed to have anything?” they ask, trying to read the suddenly even more uncomfortable expression on Gueul’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks away, mumbling so badly they can hardly understand him. “Dunno. But I kinda figured he- it sounds like he saw the wolf as a part of the werewolf that attacked him. Used to anyway. Just after it happened. Like the fucker left part of him behind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy looks down just in time to hide their shock when Gueul decides to stop staring at his hands. If that is true that’s… What an awful way to think. A terrible thing to live with. If this is the case they should stop trying to follow him in addressing the wolf as separately to himself. That’s not how they see it at all, so they shouldn’t pretend. Then again, they can’t equate the wolf with his own self either. He won’t like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still. They can try to make him see they’re doing all this for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No one else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They get to their feet and glance through the room. The mattress in the corner and the couch against the wall make it a lot less bare. And they’ve cleared away some of the rubbish and placed the two battered chairs Babet and Gueul used to use to the side with a crate between them like a little table. It’s a good start.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything else?” Gueul asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, they want some pillows and a nice duvet, but they can take care of that themself… “I wish we could get some better light in here,” they say, frowning up at the unimpressive ceiling lamp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could bring down that big standing lamp from the living room,” he suggests. “No one ever uses it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They grin at him with extra warmth, pleased to see him look slightly happier. “Perfect.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a while now talking to the wolf has been different. It’s less like cursing at himself and more like having an actual conversation. Claquesous is not sure he likes it. The wolf has far too much to say all of a sudden.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He trusts Faun. He does. He has to. But it’s unnerving to hear the wolf say things he agrees with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even now, with the power of the moon draining from his limbs, he can hear him clearly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>did good</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Still hurts like a bitch.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>did good</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Faun say good</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Yeah, you didn’t trash the pretty nest they made you.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘...what?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>us- ours</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘No.’ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>yes! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.' He forcefully opens his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soft, unobtrusive light is coming from a corner of the room, making it far easier for his eyes to adjust and see again. Claquesous knows better than to try and sit up already, but he can just see Fauntleroy leaning over his legs. He blinks at the unexpected colours close to his face and looks to the side. The blanket is lying folded on the floor and he has been tucked in under Faun’s duvet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t need to look through the room to know there’s no one else here. Faun got to do everything their way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is a freeing click of metal and Faun immediately crawls back up to look at him. “Morning,” they smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles back immediately. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised they render the wolf helpless. “Hi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faun’s eyes scan his face attentively. “You feeling okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm.” He shifts, moving his ankles and grimaces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right, this is a lot more comfortable than the floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their grin is perfect and infuriatingly triumphant. For a moment they just sit and beam, fidgeting with the sudden energy of contentedness. Then they look at him again and slant their head. “Could I get under there with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He allows himself a tired smirk and hums, reaching out with a newly freed arm to lift one corner of the duvet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy responds with a pleased sound and tucks up against him, resting their head against his shoulder as soon as he relaxes his arm again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous can’t quite stop the sigh that escapes him and Fauntleroy hugs him, nuzzling against his neck for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a while they just lay there in silence and somehow, inexplicably, it feels oddly perfect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you remember anything from tonight?” Faun murmurs eventually, stirring his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is so used to trying too hard not to remember. “...I remember—" What’s he supposed to say? Softness? Colours? Your hands? It will sound ridiculous. “I remember you laughing,” he says finally. “And clapping your hands. I think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy makes a happy sound near his ear. “That was because your wolf showed he understood me! Can I tell you what happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A vague shape of a memory solidifies in the fog of his mind. He remembers moving in a certain way, with heavy paws and lifted head, and Faun beaming with joy and pride. “...sure, tell me what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>you this would happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy knows he’s not angry at them, but it almost feels like it. “So he ripped a pillow,” they argue. “That’s hardly a—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s nothing bloody left of the thing,” Claquesous snaps, abruptly turning around halfway his pacing through the room. There is still some fluff in his hair from the pillow’s filling. It made a mess.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t mean to argue with him, but they open their mouth before they can stop themself. “This wouldn’t have happened if he had something </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant </span>
  </em>
  <span>for playing with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frustration dangerously close to anger flashes in Claquesous’ eyes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why do you</span>
  </em>
  <span>—" He shuts his mouth abruptly and looks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy’s heart pounds a startled rhythm of guilt and surprise. Sous never raises his voice at them. Not like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s suddenly standing very still and Fauntleroy is keenly aware of how frayed he looks. He’s wearing the loose, worn clothes he always puts on after a transformation and he hasn’t showered yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cautiously they slide down from where they were sitting on the bed and take a step towards him. “Sous?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His lips move and when he speaks again his tone is subdued and quiet, but no less tense. “...why do you like it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A faraway, confusing part of their brain is telling Fauntleroy that this is probably how Sous would sound before he cries. “Like what?” they ask carefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks up at them with his post-moon eyes. “The wolf. It’s violent. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>dangerous</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy looks up at him sincerely. "So are you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous’ nose wrinkles. "I have control. The wolf is... wild. Unpredictable."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They reach out, taking one of his hands."He's not so bad once you get to know him. Also like you.” They squeeze his hand, careful not to touch his wrist. He pulled very hard on his shackles during the transformation back. “I don't usually think of you and the wolf as quite so separate."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"H- </span>
  <em>
    <span>why?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Because I look at the wolf and see your eyes. He's part of you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t... I don’t trust him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wait, holding his hand to their chest, cradled in theirs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...but he likes you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should hope so,” they interject sofly. “Cause I kind of thought you loved me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sous lets out a breath that sounds so helpless they almost apologise for joking, but he looks down at them so sincerely they swallow the words to listen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s never liked anyone, Faun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy looks down, playing softly with his fingers. “Maybe because I’m the first one that doesn’t fight him.” They meet his eyes again and reach up to touch his face as lovingly as they possibly can. “Including you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I—" He tips his head slightly into their touch and frowns. “Maybe I don’t trust myself either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And maybe, Faun thinks silently, maybe he spends so much time fighting to keep control that he ends up fighting himself far more than he is even aware of. They want to say that they do trust him. That they know for sure that he will never hurt them. No matter what part of him is in control. But that may not be what he needs to hear right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you trust me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks at them. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They smile, their feet planted firmly on the ground. “Then we’ll figure it out. It’ll get better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous drops his gaze again, but just for a moment. “It already is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy smiles a little wider. “Even better still, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs and steps close enough for Fauntleroy to decide that this is the right time to actually hug him. For a moment they wish they were a bit taller, so they could hold him properly. But then he leans in and buries his face in their hair and they wouldn’t change a thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What even better is it that you want?” he mutters after a while, voice muffled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re almost speaking into the fabric of his shirt, but they make sure he hears them. “I want us to make this work,” they say. “Not just make do. I want to get to a place where you don’t feel the need to chain yourself up anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t draw back, but he stills for a long moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy can feel his heart thump in his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think that would go well?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” they say. “I do. I think it would help your wolf. You shouldn’t have to be chained, Sous. None of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now he does pull out of the hug, but just to look at them. His expression is one of his unreadable frowns. “...Gueul and Babet have to be there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy blinks. “You mean-?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you think it will help, we’ll do it,” he says stiffly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Sous.” They try to hug him again and stof halfway. “Sous, I don’t want to force you into this, at all. I want- We shouldn’t do this until you’re sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mouth pulls strangely. “I will never be sure. I don’t remember enough to know how he thinks. I just… When I woke up today, I knew I ripped apart </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surely he doesn’t mean- “Sous you didn’t think you </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>me?” Is that why he looked so grey?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not like that, no,” he grunts. “I thought perhaps, a piece of your clothing—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Sous, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” They pull him down by his shirt to press a kiss on his forehead. “And you already looked so guilty about the pillow. Your wolf, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grunts something indistinguishable and Fauntleroy hugs him again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to decide now,” they murmur warmly. “We can think about it again next moon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous can see the wolf staring back at him through his own eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is one thing to be talking to himself, it is quite another to look at himself in his second pair of eyes. He’s been having a lot of these conversations. More than he’d like to admit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But moonrise is very close now and he still needs to have one thing understood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘If you hurt them, I will make you suffer.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Yes I will. Silver and fire.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>no- no hurt</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>never hurt</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Faun</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘...yeah you better not.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>soft- good-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous blinks against the yellow in his eyes and gives up. It’s futile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Is that supposed to refer to you or to Faun?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jesus fucking christ. It’s not supposed to have his own sense of humour.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They do understand why Sous doesn’t want to spend the nights with them so close to the full moon, but they don’t like it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moreover, even though they understand his reasoning, they’re still convinced he is wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He seems to think that in the days just before the full moon there is more danger of the wolf taking over from him in some sort of unexpected, chaotic way. Like the wolf will try to escape before its time. Why exactly he thinks that they don’t know, but they have their own theories about the wolf’s behaviour.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, for instance, he is scared. Scared and suspicious. His eyes are fixed warily on Babet and Gueulemer, nearly baring his teeth whenever they move. He has gotten used to being alone with them, Fauntleroy thinks. And he must remember what Babet and Gueul used to do to him. Of course he does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be like that,” they scold gently. “Everything is fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Babet lets out a sigh. “Maybe—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolf growls low in his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Claquesous,” Fauntleroy says firmly and immediately the yellow eyes dart to theirs. “None of that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He whines and shuffles his paws miserably, dragging the heavy chains along the concrete floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is very hard to keep calm and in control with their heart twisting so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you don’t like those,” they say. “Me neither. I want to take them off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolf stares at them for a moment and then abruptly sits down, whining eagerly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy breathes out a laugh. “Yes, good. Look, I’m going to take them off, okay? But you have to stay calm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The yellow eyes blink at them silently and Fauntleroy wishes once again that he could talk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you understand?” they say seriously. “I will get rid of these nasty chains—" The wolf fidgets eagerly as if he really does understand. “But you have to stay </span>
  <em>
    <span>calm</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Be a good wolf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once again he whines and to Fauntleroy’s absolute triumph he suddenly lays down and flops onto his side, both sets of paws easily accessible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clever, boy,” they praise, scratching him behind his ears. “Very good! Okay…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They slowly crawl to sit beside him and reach for the keys in their pocket with trembling hands. If they get this right they will have enough reason to demand that he is never chained up like this ever again. No more bruised wrists and ankles. No more wrenching of their heart every time the wolf tries to get close to them and is prevented by the chains. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moves when they get the chains off his back paws, kicking oddly and sitting up as if he cannot quite believe what is happening. Babet makes a sharp noise but before Fauntleroy can even glare they hear Gueulemer interrupt hoarsely:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s wagging his fucking tail, Babet—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a shock Fauntleroy realises he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>wagging his tail. Or he was. He isn’t anymore. Right now he’s putting his head down and… He’s trying to hide behind them, eyes fixed on Babet with anxious distrust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy swallows hard. “It’s okay,” they whisper, combing their fingers through his fir. “It’s okay, Sous.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stills and stays put, and they can feel his huge body relaxing just a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it,” they murmur. “You’re doing brilliantly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They reach down and take the chain off his left paw. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re being very good,” they say deliberately. “Very patient. You’re a good wolf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They unlock the shackle on his right paw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>good—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last chain falls away, and the wolf lunges. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy is barely aware of Babet’s sudden shout when all the breath is knocked from their body. This on account of the wolf having slammed his forehead into their chest and is now trying to snuggle up to them so hard that they nearly fall over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” they splutter laughingly. “Okay—" They hug him around his neck, burying their face into his fur to keep the joy shaking their ribs in check.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon,” Gueulemer’s voice grunts from a far corner. “They’re fine. Come on, Babet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup, we’re good,” Fauntleroy manages to chirp back and Gueul lets out an actual laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Babet clearly isn’t giving in though, because they hear an awful lot of urgent whispers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alright then. They let go of the wolf and pat his side. “Can you move over?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does, immediately, no question about whether he understood them or not. Fauntleroy beams at him and makes sure to glance in the direction of the door too, where Gueul still has his hand on Babet’s shoulder. They scoot backwards, going to sit in the middle of one end of the mattress, crossing their legs. The wolf, still standing, is tall enough for them to have to look up at him now. But he looks so happy, so eager, that there is hardly anything intimidating about him left. He’s waiting for </span>
  <em>
    <span>permission</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” they invite, patting their leg and he scrambles forward with enough enthusiasm to displace the mattress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy,” they laugh. “Down?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolf lies down and, to their complete delight, rests his head in their lap with an affectionate noise of breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh you’re brilliant,” Faun coos, scratching him behind his ears and down into the scruff is his neck. “You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>such </span>
  </em>
  <span>a good boy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolf’s tail, swipes across the mattress with enough strength to flick the pillow off the makeshift bed and out of their reach. They don’t care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a sudden flash of light and Fauntleroy looks up with a start. Gueulemer is leaning against the door, with his hands grabbing into his hair and a shaky grin on his face. Babet is standing with his phone raised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t fucking believe it,” he breathes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That thing is </span>
  <em>
    <span>feral </span>
  </em>
  <span>and you’ve got it lying in your lap.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy narrows their eyes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> can hear you, you know.” All their patience in this matter is for Sous, Babet should know better by now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opens and closes his mouth in soundless uncertainty. “I…I’m sorry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy looks down at the wolf who has his yellow eyes fixed sullenly on Babet, but is still lying docilely in their lap. “See? He didn’t mean it. It’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gueulemer makes an odd, happy sort of noise. “Faun, this is fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You—" He has barely taken a step towards them or the wolf lets out a sharp growl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instinctively Fauntleroy presses down on the back of his neck and hums at him. “Sous, no. There’s no need for that. No need at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stays put.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They glance up at Gueul, feeling intensely sorry for him the moment their eyes meet his. He looks so defeated. “We’ll get there, Gueul,” they promise. “But for now I think it’s better if it’s just us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods, retreating back to the door, and this time Babet does not protest. They leave in slightly embarrassed silence and Fauntleroy lets out a soft sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound has hardly passed their lips or a wet nose nudges against their hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy laughs. “Oh you’re as bad as him, you know,” they snort. “I’m fine. See. All good.” They smooth down the fur on his head. “Never better…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is complicated… They smooth and ruffle the wolf’s fur by turns. “You’re all him, but you’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of him, aren’t you?” they muse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolf whines and sits up a little, scooting forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Fauntleroy asks, tipping out of their sitting position. “What do you—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolf flops down against them heavily enough that they lose their balance and end up sideways on the mattress. It takes him about twenty seconds to curl around them, with a very insistent attempt to rest his snout on the top of their head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re lying on top of the duvet instead of under it, but Fauntleroy can see that having extra covering to keep them warm is about the most useless thing in existence right now. They are glowing hot. And they can’t stop giggling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...maybe you’re more all of him than I thought.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolf snorts contentedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy isn’t sure when they fell asleep. All they know is that when they did, they had a massive beast curled around them, whereas right now-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They blink their eyes open in startled disbelief. Claquesous’ bare arm is wrapped around them from behind. They can feel his forehead leaning against the back of their head, his face buried into their hair. He…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sous?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” His voice is a little hoarse, but almost in a sleepy way, nothing else. Nothing worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy takes in a slow, shaky breath. “Did you transform back...without waking me?” Their head spins despite them still lying down. “Without </span>
  <em>
    <span>letting go</span>
  </em>
  <span> of me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is a long silence on his side. “...seems that way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy breathes out a gasp and turns around in his arms. His hair is an unholy mess, but he’s missing the shadows under his eyes. He looks... he looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>feels </span>
  </em>
  <span>fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are stars in Faun’s eyes. Brilliant, triumphant, euphoric stars. Because they were right. He stopped fighting and it worked. He even remembers his transformation. Even if it seems little clearer than a fever dream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He really didn’t let go of them. Maybe that’s why he didn’t thrash or claw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faun was in his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks at them, at their starry-eyed smile behind tousled curls. “Are you going to say I told you so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their smile turns into a perfect smirk. “I’m going to kiss you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can live with that.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Faun wins~</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>d o m e s t i c i t y</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sous is looking at the bottle of expensive cabernet with an oddly amused expression. Fauntleroy cocks their head to the side, trying to read his face. Claquesous likes fancy wines and it was fun to steal, but from the way he is looking it seems like they grabbed the wrong one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They're just about to ask when he puts the bottle down and asks: "You don't need to bribe me, you know, I already told you you can buy him whatever you want."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy makes sure not to pull a face. He says that like he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound almost jealous whenever they talk fondly of his wolf side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wanted to give you something too," they say, affectionately bumping against him on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous hums, smiling faintly as he turns the bottle slightly to neatly align the label.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And I thought—" Fauntleroy steadied themself. "-I thought we might take it down to the basement to open it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous tenses up and Fauntleroy braces themself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why.” He’s not avoiding their eyes, but it clearly takes him some effort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lean against him a little. “Because I don’t want it to be a prison anymore. It shouldn’t be a place you send yourself down to as punishment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks away and they tilt their head to catch his eye again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can just be a basement, Sous.” They try for a smile. “Gueul and I did some more redecorating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous’ exhaling breath is nearly a snort. “I know. The paint stains were hard to miss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy smiles. They were expecting this to be hard for him, but if he doesn’t want to go down there today they will try again later. This is important, they’re sure of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a long, dragging silence, before Claquesous suddenly sighs and grabs the bottle off the chest being used as a side table. “Alright—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like that? Fauntleroy gets to their feet when he does, but they make sure to catch him by the hand before he can charge straight out of the room. If he wants to treat this as a challenge, that’s fine, but he shouldn’t feel like they are forcing him. “Sous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles, with a slight grimace to it. “It’s fine, Faun.” He tips his head back, stretching his neck. “Let’s go have a drink in the basement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s mostly his own reluctance that’s ticking him off right now. There is no reason to avoid the basement except irrational emotions and he resents how much the idea displeases him. It only goes to show that Faun is right. He has made that damn basement into something more than what it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous knows he could tell Faun all this. They’d listen and they’d probably understand. But it feels like saying any of this out loud will make it worse. So he doesn’t. Just like he doesn’t say anything about how much he hates the feeling of the basement stairs under his feet. He’s glad he’s not barefoot, but he wishes he was wearing shoes as well as socks. It’s still too much like-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s carpet on the floor. A large, vaguely persian carpet. It doesn’t fill the room, but that only makes it extra clear that the chains are missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s always so cold,” Faun says, a little defensively. “I thought this might help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—" Claquesous blinks at the freshly painted walls. The mattress is no longer lying on the floor, but on a very low, borderless bed, that has been properly made up. And there’s more furniture. A couch, a fauteuil, a small cabinet and a chest with...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His expression is so conflicted that for a moment Fauntleroy genuinely expects him to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried to make it a bit more homely,” they start, trying to fill the silence. “Gueul helped to pick stuff out.” It was his idea to put a chair over where those metal rings are still bolted to the floor. “I did think the dark green might be a bit much, but the walls were so dark and we didn’t want to whitewash first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous is facing away from them and they don’t quite dare to dart around him to make him look at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...it looks nice.” He doesn’t sound insincere, but he does sound like he barely knows what he’s saying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy cautiously takes a step towards him and glances up at his face. He’s almost frowning but he doesn’t look grim. He looks...embarrassed. Fauntleroy follows his gaze and looks down at the open chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did say it was okay,” they say gentle. “To get some toys…” They did that without Gueulemer, which is probably why there are so many of them.  Fire hose toys, rope toys, rubber rings and a puzzle ball to put treats in. Too many, probably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous makes a vague noise and suddenly seems to remember he’s holding the bottle of wine. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah it’s fine.” He takes out his pocket knife and uncorks the wine. “You have glasses?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” Fauntleroy hums and they go to the little cabinet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No offence, Bouquetière,” Claquesous says, sounding almost like his ironic self. “But you thought carpets and a cabinet stacked with breakables would be suitable for a...an animal room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hardly crystal, Sous,” they reply, imitating his tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks around for someone to put the bottle down and Fauntleroy places the two glasses on top of the low cabinet. “Here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous pours the wine and and places the open bottle behind the glasses. “We should let it breathe,” he says vaguely and with a nearly stubborn expression he turns around and looks through the room again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy waits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like the walls,” he says finally. “The carpet is ridiculous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They feel the faint bit of dread drain from their shoulders. “Well I like it.” Fauntleroy deliberately shuffles their bare feet on the carpet and he snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops halfway through his turn. “Is that a bowl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy braces themself again. “Yes,” they reply, as calmly and easily as they can manage. “I know you said I couldn’t let you eat, but surely a bit of water is allowed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous seems to be chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s the monotone tone of extremely uncomfortable agreement, but they chose to ignore that. “Good,” they say resolutely and they lean over to grab both the glasses before going to sit down on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You call that letting wine breathe?” he scolds, trailing after them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fussy,” they tut lovingly and they hand him his glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous sits down just a fraction too far away, so they immediately close the distance between them and softly clink their glass with his. He hums approvingly at the first sip and Fauntleroy preens. They nicked the right bottle then. Reds aren’t their own preference, so it’s always hard to tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all Sous’ relaxed posture and thoughtful sipping, however, something is still off about him. He keeps glancing at the chest of toys like it’s offended him somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy shifts uncomfortably. "I didn't buy anything weird,” they promise. “Just, look—" They put their glass down and get up to grab some of the toys. Maybe when he sees they didn’t get anything cutesy he’ll stop making that face. They drop the rope toy between them onto the bed as they sit back down and turn one of the rings over in their hands. “If you don’t like them we don’t have to keep them,” they add.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous doesn’t look at them. He’s not looking at the toys either, not exactly. But he’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>looking at them either. He clears his throat. “They’re fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy blinks. Claquesous is many things, but he’s not coy about stating his opinion. True, when it comes to them his behaviour often deviates a little, but this sounds- “...you like them?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes dart from the ring in their lap to the knotted end of rope on the bed and then quickly away again, but Fauntleroy swears they saw a flash of excitement on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do!” they beam. “You like them!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He genuinely struggles to form a coherent answer. "I- w- </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He won’t look at them either, no matter how they try, which makes this all the more difficult. “Well what's the matter then?” they ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's—" Claquesous cuts himself off again and for a second one of his hands jerks in the strangest way. He looks almost angry now, but...he's </span>
  <em>
    <span>blushing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sous,” Fauntleroy says, trying not to make their smile too audible. “Are you upset that you want to play with them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look in his eyes when he meets theirs is one of complete dismay. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>ridiculous</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he hisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy laughs and tosses the ring to the side to wrap their arms around his neck. He makes a broken-off movement towards the moving toy and lets out a </span>
  <em>
    <span>furious </span>
  </em>
  <span>sound. They hastily swallow the rest of their laugh and nuzzle against the side of his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know what your problem is? You're too serious."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous leans into their embrace, but in a distinctively disgruntled way. "That has </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do with this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think it has everything to do with this.” They let go of him and lean back just enough to meet his eyes. God they want to kiss his sulky face. “If you like it, what does it matter if it's a little embarrassing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grunts. "Parnasse already makes enough jokes about me being your pet."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who gives a shit what Parnasse says?" Fauntleroy scoffs. They let the toys slide to the floor, but there’s no carpet there, and the rubber ring bounces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous moves again - a sudden burst of yellow flashing in his eyes - and then swears so viciously that Fauntleroy doesn’t manage to hold in their laugh this time. He’s going to have </span>
  <em>
    <span>such </span>
  </em>
  <span>a great time this full moon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” they grin. “Stop swearing at my boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glares at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy rolls their eyes fondly. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>You're</span>
  </em>
  <span> allowed to play too, you know.” They poke him in the ribs. “Just like he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop that," he grunts, the corner of his mouth pulling as he bats their hand away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Make me," they grin and they suddenly grab him by his shirt, pulling him down while lifting their face to his throat in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>nearly </span>
  </em>
  <span>threatening manner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous fights back on pure instinct, using more strength than he usually does because of his surprise, and Fauntleroy responds in kind. They make far more noise than necessary, struggling and squirming away from him in every way they can while grabbing shamelessly at his clothes. By the time they are face to face with him on the bed, Sous' pupils are wide and wreathed with yellow. But his eyes don't change further. They stay like that, even as he lets out a sudden growl in response to their latest attempt to gain advantage on him and resolutely pins their wrists above their head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy stares up at him, beaming and breathless with play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kiss</span>
  </em>
  <span>," they demand and he immediately shuts their mouth with his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy isn’t paying the thought much mind right this second, but they’re guessing they’ve gotten their point about playing across pretty well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fauntleroy! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fauntleroy!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy scrambles up the basement stairs. Half annoyed and half wincing at Babet’s tone. The banging on the door sounds more like kicking by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I told you not to lock this fucking door from the inside</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine!” they cry and they hastily unlock and open the door, but they open it only just far enough to look up at Babet. “I’m fine—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face is a heated red over a frightened paleness. He stares at them, seemingly not even breathing for a moment. “What the hell’s going on?” he demands hoarsely. “...you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>screaming</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy opens their mouth and closes it again. He probably won’t like their explanation. “We were playing fetch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet’s eyes widen just a fraction. “Playing </span>
  <em>
    <span>fetch</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” They shift their weight from one foot to the other. “If it was the crash that scared you, that was my fault, I threw the ball too close to the cabinet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look on Babet’s face wavers through several shades of despair before settling on a grim sort of blankness. “Show me your hands,” he orders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obediently Fauntleroy holds out both their hands for him to inspect, but they place their foot behind the door. They don’t want him to try and come down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet glances at their hands and arms and then looks them up and down. “Turn around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They do. “I’d tell you if I was hurt, Babet,” they add, when they’re face to face with him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulders sag just a fraction. “Fine,” he says stiffly. He turns around. “Be—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re very careful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stalks down the dark hallway and Fauntleroy closes the door. They wait. And then they lock it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a deep breath they go back down the stairs. “Everything’s fine,” they announce clearly. “Nothing at all the matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf is waiting for them, standing a little to the side with a suspicious expression on its lupine face. He sits when he sees they are alone and Fauntleroy smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was only Babet,” they say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He growls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be like that, Babet’s only worried about us. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Both </span>
  </em>
  <span>of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps they’re imagining it, but the wolf looks almost skeptical to them. They make a fond noise and hold out their hand. He immediately gets up and trots over to them, huge paws unnervingly silent as they tread.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy pets his head, scratching through the rough fur on his head. He’s a mess, like always, but in a way it looks more natural now. He was playing and rolling like a puppy only a few moments ago. Chasing his toys like an actual dog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They smile a little wider. “Hey,” they say. “How about we do something about that fur our yours?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walk to the toy chest and the wolf makes an eager sound. His tail is still wagging when they turn around and they laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not for playing with, but I think you’re going to like it.” They show him the brush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf looks puzzled, but when they sit down on the bed and pat their leg he comes all the same. He always does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment they’re taken aback, entranced by the sight of him, a huge beast flopping down next to them and resting his snout in their lap. Then they smile again, slowly lift the brush, so he can see what they are doing, and start brushing the shaggy fur behind his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within two or three strokes his eyes are thin, nearly closed slits of utter enjoyment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told you you’d like it,” they coo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a deep, rumbling noise and crawls further onto their lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy keeps on brushing and stroking with their free hand by turns. “Tell you a secret,” they whisper, smiling when the yellow eyes open to look at them. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the </span>
  <em>
    <span>first </span>
  </em>
  <span>time I saw you like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether he understands that or not, he happily lets them brush him until his dark pelt is so glossy and smooth he looks almost like a different animal. When they finally fall asleep against him they are brimming with pride and contentment. And they must sleep lightly, because the setting of the moon wakes them this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the change in his breathing they become aware of first. Fauntleroy turns around just as the wolf opens his eyes. They’re still bright yellow, but their expression is decidedly different. Just for a second and then it is gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Fauntleroy murmurs, breathing through the slight jump in their heart rate. “Is it time to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf whines softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, this was a lovely night.” They reach up, stroking his shout. “See you again soon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf shudders slightly, but he does not thrash. He pushes his nose against the side of their face, making them giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls back and as they meet his eyes again they see all the yellow drain away, just like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous barely shakes, barely makes a sound. He simply follows the movement of his suddenly changing body, ending up on his back with his lips parted in a silent gasp for air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy has to bite their lip to keep from letting out the noises of wordless joy and pride. So easy. So painless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, handsome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He exhales on a laughing breath and with marvelous control of his limbs he sits up and runs a hand through his hair. There isn’t a single tangle for his fingers to snag on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy grins, sitting up to meet his sideways glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I didn’t imagine that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>remembers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Do you remember the playing too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous looks at the cupboard. It’s a meter more to the left than it was before. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make a delighted sound and reach for the duvet, pulling it over them both as they snuggle up to him hard enough to make him lie back down. “Wasn’t that </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous shifts, pulling them in closer, but they can just see his expression as he keeps his eyes looking resolutely towards the ceiling. “...yes. It was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy laughs. From pure fondness and bright amusement. They nuzzle against his neck, almost a mirror of what he did earlier, with a grin still gracing their lips. "I always wanted a dog growing up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth pulls and he digs his fingers into their side. "Don't you fucking start."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Claquesous hums, continuing to take off his gloves. They’re ruined. The blood will wash out, but that cut isn’t worth repairing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse sits down with a slight wince. This was a bit of a rough night. “Whatever Faun’s doing is helping. You’re much less of a bitch lately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous gives him a cold look and Parnasse laughs. He immediately winces again. That’s not good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ribs?” Claquesous asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parnasse gives a short nod. “Just bruised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are plenty of people whose word he wouldn’t take for it in matters such as these, but Montparnasse is not one of them. Claquesous nods back and sits down too, flexing his fingers. They’re a little cramped up, but there’s barely a scratch on his skin. Thank fuck for thick leather gloves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse looks at him. “So are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous hesitates and then he nods again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parnasse’s expression flickers between smug and relieved for a moment before going back to his usually easy indifference. “Jesus, what a night,” he drawls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s true, his transformations are easier now. So much easier. It’s unnerving sometimes how few repercussions on his body it still seems to have. But it seems to have come at a cost. The memories, ever more present and vivid, are hard enough to deal with. It’s confusing to remember smells he cannot smell now. Movements he cannot make. Sounds he cannot hear. Above all though, Claquesous cannot shake the feeling that the waxing moon gives him more trouble than ever before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf feels so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>closer </span>
  </em>
  <span>than he used to be. The moon has hardly passed into its first quarter and already he is barely sure of what colour his eyes are at any given moment. It no longer seems to be tied to his emotions. Not really. Sometimes he feels it, sometimes he doesn’t. It’s uncertain. It’s chaotic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous is wearing his sunglasses again. The moon isn’t even gibbous yet. Fauntleroy watches him fuss with the wine glasses in the cupboard for a long moment before finally opening their mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you still wear those around the house?” ...that came out a bit more accusing than they meant it. Fauntleroy makes an affectionate sound to soften the words a little and moves over a bit on the couch in an inviting way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you,” Claquesous replies distantly. “Can’t trust my eyes at the moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Trust</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They wait for him to sit down. Wait until he’s beside them again so they can look at him properly. “I know, but why are you wearing them here?” They can just see the shape of his eyes through the tinted glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I don’t like not knowing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy bites their lip. They love his eyes. No matter what they look like, they're beautiful. But he probably doesn’t believe that yet. And it’s the lack of control he hates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, only continuing when he makes no silent protest, they crawl into his lap. “Can I see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous arms wrap lightly around them, seemingly without thinking. As if it’s second nature. He sighs and reaches up to take the glasses off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes are yellow. Perhaps a shade darker than they are during the full moon, but nowhere near his own darkest brown. Fauntleroy gently touches his face. This is also his very own though. “There’s nothing wrong with your eyes,” they assure him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only takes a light touch to his neck to feel his quickened heartbeat. They do wish he would stop frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They smooth their thumbs over his temples, trying to coax the frown off his face. “You’re lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lean forward and softly kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to fight to the surface,” they whisper. “You don’t have to fight each other anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy can feel the tension in his shoulders give way a bit and when they pull back again they can see the amber glow dimming in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous blinks and his eyes are dark. He looks at them with an odd, almost subdued sort of expression. "...you have no idea how weird that feels."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shift a little on his lap, comfortable in his embrace. "What does?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous’ eyes wander away from their face. "You touch me and...and he listens. Because—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because what?" they prompt, slanting their head until he looks up again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because...I guess...because you're something we agree on."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy smiles and swallows down the swelling of their heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Normally I'd warn for some angst, but I think the previous chapters had a lot of sneaky angst too, and it didn't even seem to blip on Azura's radar, so...</p><p>Anyway, here's a bunch of emotional development~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fauntleroy’s lungs sting with running. If they had any breath leftover they would be cursing. They’re late. They’re horribly, horribly late, and they should never have let this happen. </p><p>The front door opens before they’ve even reached it. “Oh thank <em> fuck </em>.” Montparnasse all but drags them inside. “Where the fuck have you been?”</p><p>“I lost track of the time,” they gasp. “Is everything okay, is he-?”</p><p>“He told us to lock him in the basement and leave him alone,” Montparnasse snaps, practically dragging them down the hallway. “But as soon as he changed he started screaming. Howling I mean. Crying.”</p><p>Fauntleroy catches the look in his green eyes and he looks genuinely upset. </p><p>“Babet wouldn’t let me go inside. And Gueul—" He abruptly turns around and sharply raises his voice. “They’re back!”</p><p>It seems like it takes Gueulemer less than ten seconds to get to the hallway with the key in his hand and instead of handing it to them, he just unlocks the door.</p><p>“Thank you,” Faun squeaks. It is eerily quiet down there. No howling at all. </p><p>They dart down the stairs.</p><p>The lights are on but for half a second they do not see him. Then, at the first sound of their feet hitting the floor, something stirs in the bed and the wolf emerges from under the rumpled bedding.</p><p>For a moment his whole body seems poised to leap towards them, and then he cowers and whines so pitifully Fauntleroy swears they can feel their heart break with the guilt of it. He looks <em> so </em>sad. The bed is an absolute mess, but it is the only thing in the room that is. </p><p>It’s the only thing in the room that smells like them.</p><p>"I'm sorry I'm late!” Fauntleroy breaths. “It's not your fault. I'm not mad at you!"</p><p>They walk to the bed, their legs still shaking from all the running. The wolf is still whining, and they sit down, making soft, encouraging noises while their heart pounds. Slowly, deliberately, he gets up, stands over their lap, lays down, and presses the entire front of his face against their chest. Fauntleroy wraps their arms around his broad neck and snuggles into his fur.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” they whisper.</p><p>The wolf pushes harder.</p><p>“I’m here,” they breathe. “I’m here. I won’t leave. I won’t leave you.”</p><p>They spend a good twenty minutes muttering apologies into his fur, and after that they stroke and pet him over and over again. They stroke him until all the frantic fear locked in his muscles is gone and he is lying in their lap like they have come to expect of him. Everything is quiet and comfortable again. Still...this was bad. It’s not reasonable to assume that they can always be there in time for the full moon. He needs other people too. They think of the frantic spark in Montparnasse’s eyes. He needs the rest of his friends.</p><p>---</p><p>They had expected him to protest, refuse even, but he doesn’t. Claquesous lets them speak, listens quietly to their explanation about his need for company during his transformations and how much better it would be if his wolf side could learn to trust the Patron-Minette like he does. It would mean having to reintroduce himself to his friends, and Fauntleroy can see that, especially in the case of Babet and Gueulemer, that won’t be easy. But they really believe it could work.</p><p>What they cannot believe is the lack of horror on Sous’ face in response to their suggestion. This is not at all the reaction they were expecting. “So...what do you think?” they prompt cautiously after an astonishingly calm, thoughtful silence on his part.</p><p>Claquesous nods slowly. “That sounds...reasonable.”</p><p>Fauntleroy blinks.</p><p>“I’m less of a danger to you than I ever was to Gueul and Babet,” he says. “But you shouldn’t have to make sure you’re here every full moon. It’d be useful if the others could deal with me too.”</p><p>“It would,” they agree. “But it would also be good for you.”</p><p>He smiles faintly. </p><p>“We could start with Parnasse,” Fauntleroy suggests. They have given this some thought already. “He’d be a clean slate. He and your wolf have never met, no earlier experience on either side.”</p><p>Claquesous nods again, but he doesn’t exactly answer. “Speaking- Speaking of things that would be good.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>Claquesous avoids their eyes for a second before looking up from his hands. “We talked it over and we would like it if you would sleep over before the full moon too. If you still want to.”</p><p>It takes them embarrassingly long to catch on. It’s the we. He has never used the word we to include the wolf in such an actually <em> united </em>way. They smile, feeling like their expression must be brimming over with joy. “What changed your mind?”</p><p>Sous gives them a quiet look. “I think he’s- <em> I’m </em> more dangerous without you.”</p><p>They smile a little broader still. That’s not true at all. But, and that’s the main thing, he’s not dangerous to <em> them </em>. “Then yes,” they say warmly. “I still want to.”</p><p>No more cold, lonely nights knowing that he’s tossing and turning in bed.</p><p>Claquesous makes a soft affectionate noise and draws them towards him. Fauntleroy snuggles up to him gleefully. “Do you want to try next moon, then?” they murmur. “See if Parnasse wants to?”</p><p>He hums in agreement. “Sounds good.”</p><p>They grin and bury against him a little more. “And maybe I could add some of my bedding to yours. Since your bed is bigger.”</p><p>They can hear a smile in his voice when he speaks. “Sounds better.”</p><p>---</p><p>They’re used to it by now, of course, but Fauntleroy is seriously frustrated by the lack of communication Claquesous and Parnasse are willing to engage in. They talked about this once. <em> Once </em>. And now they’ve decided it might as well happen and they don’t feel the need to talk about it again.</p><p>They understand why. Of course. It’s awkward. And for Sous it’s probably awful. Just the thought of it makes him clam up. Take the immediate danger out of the wolf and it's suddenly an uncomfortably vulnerable state to be in. And Parnasse is nervous. He has always known what Sous is now, ever since it happened. But unlike the others he has never seen him transform. Not beyond those little glimpses when he gets emotional. But that’s exactly why Fauntleroy insists on starting with him. He’s a clean slate. No negativity on either side from previous transformations.</p><p>They just want Sous to be able to be <em> free </em>during his transformations, not locked up in one room the whole time. He's still Sous no matter what he looks like and he should have free reign of his own house. To do that the others need to learn how to deal with him. </p><p>That won’t be easy. Which is why they are doing the talking now, since Claquesous refuses to. Except they’re beginning to get a fuller grasp on why exactly, because Montparnasse is covering up his nerves with an astonishing degree of bullshit.</p><p>“Will I get to see him do tricks for you?” he grins. “Tell me he does tricks for you.”</p><p>Fauntleroy glares. "Parnasse if you're an ass about this I will smack you.”</p><p>"Yeah, yeah, get off my case wolf-whisperer."</p><p>"I mean it. This is important. He’ll think you’re hostile towards him.”</p><p>Montparnasse rolls his eyes. "I promise not to make fun of my friend the giant monster who could rip my throat out."</p><p>A swirl of anger coils in their stomach. "Don't call him that."</p><p>He pulls a face at them.</p><p>Fauntleroy takes a breath and tries again, fixing him with a grave stare. "We're going at <em> his </em>pace, not yours."</p><p>An obnoxious smirk sparks in his eyes. "I've heard that before."</p><p>"Ugh, just. Don't push him too hard."</p><p>"Heard that one t—"</p><p>-</p><p>Claquesous is not surprised when Faun comes down the basement stairs alone, but he is slightly confused by the faint smell of-</p><p>"Hey, so Parnasse is currently bleeding in the kitchen because he wouldn't stop being a slut for two seconds. Try again next month?" Fauntleroy’s face is still a little red.</p><p>“Faun—" he begins, but Faun interrupts him.</p><p>“I only <em> lightly </em>stabbed him,” they defend. “He was being an ass.”</p><p>Claquesous snorts. “What’s new.” He’s surprised he didn’t hear the cursing from the kitchen all the way down here.</p><p>Fauntleroy heaves a sigh and sits down. “He does want to do it though.”</p><p>“I know,” he hums.</p><p>“He’s just nervous.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“And an ass.”</p><p>He smiles. “Yes, I know.”</p><p>They sigh again and fall down next to him on the couch. “How long still?”</p><p>Claquesous flexes his muscles. He can feel something pulling on them already. “Feels like a couple minutes.”</p><p>“Alright,” they hum and they turn their face to his. “Then give me a kiss while you still can.”</p><p>He softly touches their lips to theirs, waiting for them to press for more to kiss them in earnest. When they break apart Faun pulls away to give him room to take his clothes off.</p><p>“Better luck next time with Parnasse,” he says.</p><p>“Hm?” Fauntleroy hums distractedly.</p><p>He gives them a smirking glance and their face flushes with a different sort of redness. “Yeah, better luck next time.”</p><p>---</p><p>Fauntleroy is glad they decided to keep Montparnasse away during Sous’ transformation. It wasn’t a bad one, not at all, but they’re pretty sure they only think that because they’ve seen much worse. It would probably still be upsetting to Parnasse.</p><p>He looks nervous enough as it is, descending the stairs.</p><p>To be honest, they’re rather afraid he’s going to revert back to being an ass about this, but...he seems almost in awe. At least they really don’t know how else to describe the look on his face as he sets eyes on Sous’ wolf for the first time.</p><p>"...wow."</p><p>They smile. "Yeah."</p><p>The wolf is standing, not too tense, but looking at Montparnasse very intently.</p><p>“It’s okay, Sous,” Fauntleroy says steadily. They’re pretty sure Montparnasse hasn’t even heard them. He takes a step towards the wolf.</p><p>"Man, can you hear me?"</p><p>He gives a pretty good unimpressed stare for a wolf. Fauntleroy is about to explain that just because he can hear and understand them, doesn’t mean that all of him does, but Montparnasse is already walking towards him.</p><p>“You look fucking <em> regal </em>. Why the hell would you not go out like this? I thought you'd look fucked up."</p><p>The wolf gives a snort and Faun laughs. They've been telling him how pretty he is for months and they’re <em> delighted </em>that Parnasse just addresses him as if he’s just Sous.</p><p>A little too delighted, because they’re not quick enough to prevent Montparnasse from reaching out a hand.</p><p>The wolf bares his teeth and growls. </p><p>Montparnasse snatches his hand back. "Jeez, chill!"</p><p>He starts back so Fauntleroy darts forward, putting an affectionate hand on the wolf’s back. </p><p>"See how he didn't hurt you there?" they say and they stroke rewardingly from his ears to his neck. </p><p>Parnasse shifts uncomfortably. "...I guess."</p><p>"Four moons ago, he could have taken your hand for that. And before that, he might have charged you for even being in between us."</p><p>"I thought you'd tamed him!" Montparnasse protests.</p><p>"Tame is... subjective. He's still wild like this, but he trusts me.” The wolf makes a soft sound and nudges his snout against their hand. “Sous as you know him is more in control than before, but the wolf is still very much there.”</p><p>Montparnasse is standing at a respectful distance now, looking half defiant and half unsure.</p><p>“Here,” they say encouragingly. “I'll show you how to start."</p><p>-</p><p>Patience has never been Montparnasse’s strong suit. He doesn’t like sitting on the floor either, but he does it anyway. They show him how to hold his hand for the wolf to sniff, palm down and bent at the wrist so his finger point toward the ground.</p><p>The wolf still won’t go near him, though, not even when they sit down next to him and make encouraging noises. Still, he’s come to sit rather close and he’s looking at Parnasse with curiosity rather than suspicion. </p><p>"I don't get it,” Montparnasse mutters eventually. “Is it still him or is isn't it?"</p><p>"Both."</p><p>"But he—"</p><p>"You mean to say Sous wouldn't snarl at you if you tried to touch him without permission?"</p><p>Montparnasse grumbles and stays put like they told him to.</p><p>“Okay look,” they say. “And don’t move.” Fauntleroy holds their hand out in example and makes a soft noise to call him closer.</p><p>The wolf leaves his spot and gives their hand a quick sniff before nosing into their palm and getting their hand on top of his head to scratch his ears. “Yeah you’re a good beast,” they praise. “Very good.” They glance at Parnasse. “See?”</p><p>"Okay,” he says reluctantly. “But is that just because it's you?"</p><p>"Maybe. Or maybe he'll let you once he trusts you like this."</p><p>Something strikingly close to hurt flashes in Montparasse’s eyes. "I'm his best friend! He trusts me!"</p><p>"Like this, Parnasse. It's different. And you're the first one we're trying this with. I don't know what might happen, only that you're safe."</p><p>“As long as you’re here,” he says, suddenly a touch grim.</p><p>Fauntleroy frowns. “Is that what Sous told you?”</p><p>Montparnasse doesn’t look at them, he’s looking at the wolf, but he nods.</p><p>“I think he’s wrong,” Fauntleroy says firmly. “I don’t think he’d hurt you unless you hurt him.”</p><p>Parnasse hums and slowly holds out his hand again. “You know I wanted to help,” he mutters. “I wanted to stay with him and stuff, like Gueul.”</p><p>“You can tell him as well as me,” Fauntleroy interjects gently.</p><p>He pulls his face into a grimace. “I wanted to see you,” he starts over, looking at the wolf with a troubled expression that Fauntleroy knows Parnasse would rather hide from them. “But you- Sous wouldn’t let me.” He frowns. “Do you even know who I am?”</p><p>Beside them, Fauntleroy feels the wolf shift. He slants his head and for the millionth time they wish he could talk. Because they’re sure he’d have something to say.</p><p>“This is just like talking to Sous after he thinks you fucked up,” Montparnasse mutters at them. “He just fucking <em> stares </em>at you.”</p><p>“Nonsense,” Fauntleroy tuts. “He’s not staring, he’s—"</p><p>The wolf gets up and walks around them.</p><p>Montparnasse sits upright as soon as he passes by behind them and Fauntleroy puts a hand on his knee. “Easy...” </p><p>For a moment the wolf hesitates and then, cautiously, he sniffs Paransse’s hand. And then, with a soft snort, instead of nuzzling against his hand, he gives a short, companionable nudge against his arm before sitting down again.</p><p>Montparnasse smiles.</p><p>And Fauntleroy beams.</p><p>---</p><p>It’s endearing to see Gueulemer’s awkward fumbling, but Babet… Watching Babet is painful. As far as Fauntleroy can tell Gueulemer’s guilt has given way to relief. Previously he was being told he had to hurt the wolf to keep Sous him safe, now he’s being told that not only is this no longer necessary, he’s allowed not to treat the wolf as a monster this time. Gueul has the inexplicable talent to let go. He’s happier with the current situation than the previous one and that’s good enough for him.</p><p>It isn’t for Babet.</p><p>Fauntleroy watches him with growing concern while the other three talk. Montparnasse is smugly taking the opportunity to tell Gueul what he should and shouldn’t do, since <em> he </em>has prior experience. And Sous, in between long partly amused and partly annoyed silences, does his best to reassure him that he’s confident that he can make his wolf understand that Gueul no longer means him any harm.</p><p>It’s a good conversation and a long time coming, but Babet isn’t part of it.</p><p>He went quiet the moment Parnasse began to talk about how easy the wolf is around him by now and ever since Claquesous casually suggested that Gueul should come down some time he has withdrawn completely. He’s sitting in his chair, one of his foreing newspapers on his lap, but not really reading.</p><p>If the others have noticed, they’re not doing anything about it. As is usually the case.</p><p>Fauntleroy slowly slides out of their chair and makes their way over to Babet’s.</p><p>He doesn’t even look up at them.</p><p>They sit down on the armrest of his chair, blocking him from the others’ line of sight. Instead of saying something they just sit, idly swinging one of their legs, their eyes tracing patterns on the wall.</p><p>“None of the books had anything helpful to say.” </p><p>Babet’s voice is barely audible, but Fauntleroy was waiting for him to speak.</p><p>“All they said was how to trap them, kill them. And he- the first time, he screamed at me to make it stop—"</p><p>Fauntleroy turns their face towards Babet. Not to look at him, but so the others won’t see their expression. Babet treats them all like kids, even today. And this was years ago. Sous was still so young. </p><p>“I couldn’t.” The guilt in Babet’s voice sounds cold and bitter. “I couldn’t help him and then he was gone and what was left in his place bit me.”</p><p>They can’t help their breath from catching and Babet finally lifts his eyes to theirs.</p><p>“Yeah, he bit me. But he barely broke the skin. Never did understand that at the time.” His lips twitch into a wry smile. “Never stopped to think about it either. Just hit him.”</p><p>Even with the tightness pressing on their throat at the moment Fauntleroy feels a wild, affectionate pride swelling in their chest.</p><p>“He didn’t want to hurt me, didn’t he.” The expression on Babet’s face has turned into a grimace. “He was still there and he tried not to.”</p><p>“Succeeded, I’d say,” they answer, momentarily forgetting to consider Babet’s feelings above their own.</p><p>“He never used to remember, Faun. Not a thing. He just seemed <em> gone </em>. I swear if—"</p><p>Fauntleroy puts a hand on his shoulder. “You did the best you could,” they cut him off gently. He fucked up. He fucked up terribly. But never meant to. “You kept everyone safe.”</p><p>“Like hell I did.”</p><p>“We’re all here, aren’t we?” They fix their eyes on his. “Sous doesn’t resent anything that you did. I’ve heard him talk. ...don’t think I ever would have gotten to meet him if it hadn’t been for you.”</p><p>Babet looks away. “Well—" </p><p>Montparnasse’s voice rises above the general volume of conversation with a sudden jeer. “Only <em> Faun </em> is allowed to pet him though, for reasons that have absolutely <em> nothing </em>to do with—"</p><p>“One nigth, Parnasse,” Claquesous interrupts threateningly. “One night I will be concious enough to remember to eat one of your shoes.”</p><p>“Oh so you <em> are </em>allowed to make dog jokes.”</p><p>Babet breathes out with a quickness that almost makes it sound like a laugh and Fauntleroy smiles silently at their knees.</p><p>“Thank you, Faun.”</p><p>“It’s different now.” They turn to look at Sous, grinning in spite of himself. “We’ll figure it out.” They will see him adopt the whole of the Patron-Minette as his pack. All over again.</p><p>Beside them Babet hums. “I’m sure you will.”</p><p>---</p><p>The first thing Claquesous becomes aware of is that his throat hurts. </p><p>The second thing is that he’s not in the basement.</p><p>He sits up in what is - to his growing confusion - Fauntleroy’s bed. That explains the smell at least, because they’re not-</p><p>“Jesus fuck that looked painful.”</p><p>Claquesous curses loud enough for Montparnasse to physically start back and Claquesous stares at him with a sudden burst of adrenaline coursing through his tired body. </p><p>“<em> What the fuck are you doing here? </em>”</p><p>He takes a wild look around the room. The bed is a mess but nothing else seems out of place. </p><p>“What the fuck am <em> I </em> doing here—"</p><p>There’s a single beat of tense silence. “I let you out of the basement,” Parnasse answers. “Had to. You were going crazy in there.”</p><p>Claquesous takes in the expression on Parnasse’s face. Uncomfortably sincere and almost defensive. “I—"</p><p>“You were screaming- howling, I mean,” Montparnasse interrupts. “And then you climbed the bloody stairs. I could hear you pawing at the door.”</p><p>Claquesous feels a stab of panic. He doesn’t remember anything. “I tried to <em> break out </em>?”</p><p>“No you ass, you asked to be <em> let </em>out,” Montparnasse snaps.</p><p>Astonishingly, he sounds upset. Claquesous shuts his mouth.</p><p>“I...I think you forgot where Faun was as soon as you turned,” Parnasse starts hesitantly. “I tried to tell you- him. Through the door. Said that they were out of town and couldn’t make it tonight. But you just... “ He looks back at him defiantly. “I had to let you out.”</p><p>Internally Claquesous curses himself for not locking the basement door from the inside, but… Nothing happened, did it? Still- “...and Babet let you?”</p><p>Montparnasse meets his gaze head on. “Didn’t even try to stop me.”</p><p>He shifts uncomfortably on the bed. His body is tired, but it doesn’t feel like he did anything strenuous. The aching throat must be from the howling… “Did I…what did I do?”</p><p>Parnasse has relaxed a little. He wanders over to Faun’s desk and leans against it, half-seated. “Not much. At first you wandered around the house looking for them. Just, whining. Eventually you gave up, but instead of going back down you climbed into their bed.”</p><p>Well, that could have been worse then. Claquesous looks up. “Then why didn’t you just leave me here?”</p><p>Montparnasse gives him an odd look. “You don’t remember at all?”</p><p>He gives a short shake of his head.</p><p>“Every time I tried leaving you whined.”</p><p>Claquesous stares at him. Montparnasse looks back. </p><p>Claquesous lets himself fall backward onto the bed with a groan he can feel drawing up from the very core of his being. “Fucking fantastic.”</p><p>Over by the desk Parnasse lets out a snort. “Yeah your dog side has a fear of abandonment.”</p><p>“Next time just knock me unconscious, will you? Or kill me. Your choice.”</p><p>Mercifully, Montparnasse laughs. Claquesous isn’t sure if he can deal with more sincerity right now. </p><p>More sincerity would mean having to articulate how grateful he is.</p><p>-</p><p>They’re a bit surprised when it’s Parnasse who comes into the hallway to greet them instead of Sous, but, Fauntleroy supposes, it is still pretty early in the morning. They haven’t quite shaken their annoyance at being so late, but Montparnasse looks relaxed. That’s a good sign.</p><p>“Everything go alright?” they ask. He had promised to text if anything happened, but you never quite knew with Parnasse.</p><p>“Sure,” he hums. “Just a heads up though, he’s sleeping in your bed right now.”</p><p>Fauntleroy feels a jolt of affection. “Aw.”</p><p>“Yeah and it's probably covered in fur, but that’s your problem now.”</p><p>They turn around with a start. “It what?”</p><p>“Long story short I had to let him out of the basement and he refused to leave your bed.” Montparnasse raises an eyebrow at them. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know why.”</p><p>Fauntleroy can’t quite help the emotional sound escaping from the back of their throat.</p><p>“Yes, disgusting,” Montparnasse grimaces. “You know he <em> wags his tail </em> when someone mentions your name?”</p><p>They look at him, brimming with pleased triumph. “You stayed with him, didn’t you.”</p><p>Montparnasse rolls his eyes and they beam at him. </p><p>He’s not quite fast enough to prevent them from hugging them around the waist.</p><p>“I don’t want thanks for being decent to my best friend,” he grunts. </p><p>“Did you hear me say thank you?” they grin. They let go of him and pretend not to see the mixed expression of happiness on his face. </p><p>-</p><p>They’re quiet enough that Sous doesn’t wake up when they enter the room. He looks so peaceful, sleeping in warm morning light, that they linger for a moment, leaning against the door. It takes a moment before they notice the crumpled up sheets on the floor. The ones on the bed look fresh. He changed the bed. Silly-</p><p>Claquesous rolls over and squints his eyes.</p><p>Fauntleroy hurries over to the bed before he can wake up properly. “Hey,” they say gently as he opens his eyes. “Good m—"</p><p>They let out a yelp and kick involuntarily as Sous abruptly grabs them around their waist and drags them towards him. They end up falling on top of him into the bed, looking up in slight bewilderment when he lets go of them again.</p><p>“Sorry,” he blurts out. “I didn’t—" His eyes flash a frantic yellow and for half a second he moves his head as if he’s about to nuzzle against them. He jerks his head back up and makes a distressed sound.</p><p>“Hey,” they laugh. “No holding out on snuggles. Come here.” They scramble fully onto the bed and pull him into their arms.</p><p>He burrows against them so immediately and so furiously that it was clearly another reflex. If he wasn’t so frustrated with himself right now they’d be enjoying this immensely. They wanted to make up for being gone anyway, they’ll happily hold him the rest of the morning.</p><p>"This is ridiculous,” Sous grunts, still pressing his forehead to their chest. “Usually it's at its weakest just after the full moon."</p><p>Fauntleroy combs their fingers through his hair. "Do you have to call your wolf side 'it'?” they murmur. “You only still do that when you're upset with him."</p><p>There is a beat of silence. "I...hadn't noticed that."</p><p>They gently touch the side of his chin and he lifts his head to look at them. His eyes are dark, but with a glint to them in the depth.</p><p>Fauntleroy leans in and kisses him softly on his lips. "That is for you."</p><p>He looks at them silently, expression softening. </p><p>They lay their head back down again and scratch softly through his hair at the nape of his neck. "And that is also for you."</p><p>Sous shivers and lets out a sigh that is nearly a whine, before snuggling into them again. </p><p>Fauntleroy holds him to their chest, fleetingly wishing they were big enough to wrap themself around him completely. "I'll do my best to always be here for you,” they mutter into his hair. “I'm sorry business ran over so long."</p><p>"Not your fault. I don't mind." </p><p>His fingers, digging slightly into their back, say otherwise. </p><p>But, he just spent a night out of the basement. Parnasse let him go and Babet let it happen. And nothing went wrong.</p><p>Maybe, at some point, if they can convince everyone, they'll be able to bring him with them when they have to leave.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They’re not even trying when it really happens for the first time. Fauntleroy has been trying, for months now, to get Sous to react to them through the mind of the wolf. Saying his name helps. They can tell that connects on a deeper level. But it’s hard to tell the difference between the wolf being calm and responsive and Sous being actually present. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They know he must be more present nowadays, because he remembers more. And what he remembers often links with the moments they saw that different kind of look in his eyes. Because they really do think his glances have a more human quality sometimes, be it sarcasm or affection. But it never seems to last very long and his interactions remain very animal. Well, mostly. At times it seems like it is really him. But then his wolf side is still extremely clever, so that only makes it harder to tell the difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this...this is different. He was still moving around a second ago, but now he’s standing very still. And his eyes, his eyes are so dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Claquesous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The wolf blinks and then, with a hesitance to his movements that makes Faun’s heart beat frantically fast, he nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god.” They feel dizzy. “Sous- Do you really understand what I’m saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” They rush towards him and sink to their knees, trying to hug him around his neck. To their temporary confusion he doesn’t react the way he usually does. He shifts his weight awkwardly on his paws for a moment and then abruptly sits down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy laughs. “You’re thinking about how to wolf!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pull away to look into his eyes. They’re still dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think you could talk like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous - yes, it’s really him now, he just looks like a wolf - shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, that makes sense,” they breathe, trying to bring their emotions down a bit. “Just wondering.” The expression in his eyes is not exactly what they’d call easy. “You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out a soft whine, but nods again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy reaches out to pet him and hesitates. “Can I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous pushes his head under their hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smilingly they scratch behind his ear and now he does move his head exactly the way they’ve come to expect of him. That’s interesting. “Sous, can I try something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright…” Fauntleroy bites their lip. So Sous is here, plain and simple, they can see that. But the wolf is also here. Clearly. “Sous, I’m gonna tell you something I’ve never told you before and see if you remember later, okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches them silently, waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods again, but just before he does Fauntleroy could have sworn they saw his eyes roll upwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They purse their lips in a smile. “Alright then.” They look into his face. “Sometimes, when you’re distracted or tired and you’re doing something, you talk to yourself. And you do it in this grumbling little talk-growl and it’s one of my </span>
  <em>
    <span>favorite </span>
  </em>
  <span>things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy wishes they had taken their phone out to take a picture. No one is ever going to believe that a wolf’s snout can pull </span>
  <em>
    <span>such </span>
  </em>
  <span>a face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous blinks at the ceiling, the last shudders leaving his body. Well, that was-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy’s face appears above his, curls tumbling downward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes find theirs, still slightly unfocussed. “Yeah—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They smile, reaching out to touch him as soon as he answers. “Your eyes are still yellow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason that neither surprises nor distresses him right now. He makes a soft sound in reply and shifts on the mattress to test his muscles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you were aware your eyes got darker,” Faun says curiously. “...do you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous narrows his eyes at them. “You mean do I remember you laughing at me over involuntary tics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pure burst of joy on their face is bright enough for him to feel the warmth of it shining onto his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They let themself fall down beside him and cuddle up against him, chattering excitedly about what this could mean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You started to drift in an out a bit after a while.” They lift up their head just enough to look at him. “And then I think you went full wolf for the rest of the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” He cannot remember all of the night, but much more than he ever has before. “sounds about right.” It’s strange, a very strange feeling, but... not unpleasant. Not at all actually. Which is not what he had expected. He used to think that being </span>
  <em>
    <span>aware </span>
  </em>
  <span>of what he had changed into would have been so much worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally they leave Sous to recover in silence, content to just cuddle, but right now Fauntleroy can’t stay quiet. He’s being all vague and thoughtful again, but they’re buzzing with so many hopes and dreams they </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you feel as calm as you looked?” they ask eagerly. “Not being able to talk must have been frustrating,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous rolls onto his side and they shift away from him a little so they can look at one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did feel calm,” he says after a moment’s consideration. “At least after the first few moments. It was strange waking up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still seems calm, Fauntleroy thinks. Wonderfully calm and free of pain. “That makes sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he thinks and looks at them, Fauntleroy sees his eyes change colour. Just a little darker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The talking was annoying,” he decides. His expression softens to almost a smile. “But you’re pretty good at understanding me anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They grin widely. “And you understood me </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfectly!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” They rock forward to bump against him. “Oh Sous you were just </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile breaks through and as it fades again he makes a thoughtful noise at the back of his throat. “It didn’t feel the same,” he says slowly. “Not the way I feel now. But it felt much more...whole. Less like a constant struggle I’m losing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy swallows around the lump in their throat. “I’m so glad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hums and they revel in the smile in their eyes as he looks back at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were so calm, Sous, even when you were were fully wolf again. Like switching between the two didn’t bother you at all!” They scoot a little closer. “Maybe next time we can go outside together? You do always look like you wish you were outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous’ expression sobers. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t- Look I don’t think the wolf means any harm, but I can’t trust him either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is by far the nicest thing he has ever said about his wolf side and it takes Fauntleroy a lot of self-control not to make an incredibly big deal out of it. “What don’t you trust?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Animals are fickle. You don’t know what he’s going to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he’s so good with me and Parnasse, even with Gueul and Babet it’s been fine!” they argue. “He wouldn’t be dangerous.” True enough, the wolf has a tendency to get over excited and dart around. And he’s so wary of Babet that he’s sometimes a little skittish, but that’s just normal dog behaviour!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous gives them a deeply doubtful look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” they insist and suddenly they light up. “I could just put you on a leash!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits up so abruptly that they bounce a little on the mattress. "Absolutely not. You're not putting a collar on me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy pushes themself upright. "You used to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>chained</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sous!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's a completely different thing!" There is a rare flash of embarrassment flooding his face again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, so it’s like that. Fauntleroy bites their lip. "What about a harness?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck no!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright,” they laugh. “We’ll think of something else then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives them a slightly disgruntled look. “I’d literally rather have a chain or a rope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t take you outside on a choke collar,” they protest. “People would stop me to school me on animal welfare. And they’d be right!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous grunts vaguely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I get you a chain collar with a seperate leash, would that do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I’ll think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look smug, he told me you’d be smug.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy grins at Babet, completely devoid of any shame. “He promised. One more moon free in the house without incident and I could take him for a walk.” They cheerfully button their coat. “I think he’s getting bored anyway, now he’s aware so much of the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Babet looks uncertain. “You’re sure about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell whether he’s aware or not. I’m sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course it’s not quite so black and white. Even when Sous is fully aware, some things still reach his dog brain before they reach his human brain. That’s what it seems like at least, whenever he lunges for them instead of giving an affectionate nudge. He has gained his human capacities, but that doesn’t mean the feral part is ever really gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is why they’ve got a chain collar and leash for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” they say. “All ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So this is really happening?” Montparnasse is suddenly standing in the door to the hallway. “He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>letting you put a leash on him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh piss off, Parnasse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I think it’s great.” His grin is so wide he almost looks wolfish himself. “Wonderful idea. I’m gonna stay right here to see your wonderful idea in action.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like hell he is. Fauntleroy turns around. “Parnasse, give Babet your phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse’s grin turns just a little sharp. “Fucking make me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slightly delayed by a short, but rather explosive struggle and an exasperated intervention by Babet, Fauntleroy finally steps outside with the brand new dog leash firmly in hand. Claquesous is walking beside them with the unnatural precision of an animal that isn’t thinking like an animal. He’s also looking up at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t this nice?” they say happily, their voice only slightly lowered. “Isn’t it good to be outside?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous can convey an awful lot with just a look. Fauntleroy can see the conflict in him. He’s excited, they can tell. He can barely keep his tail from wagging. But he’s trying to keep himself in check. Trying to stay conscious, to not get too animal. Or rather, he’s trying to act like a dog would, rather than a wolf who - for the first time ever - has nothing but a leash separating him from complete freedom. It’s almost cruel, Fauntleroy thinks, to keep him from running free. But they can’t let him go. Not here in the middle of the city. There are people everywhere, even this late at night. Someone’s jogging towards them now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The jogger slows down a bit, turning to look. “Your dog is beautiful!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks!” Fauntleroy chimes, hoping the wideness of their grin will be attributed to nothing but pride. “I think so too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside them Sous lets out a short, soft growl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re right you know,” they smirk. “I’ve been saying that for months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathes out with a snort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can argue all you like,” they laugh, making an effort to bring their voice down. “Doesn’t make it less true.” They glance down at his disapproving eyes. “Or is it the ‘dog’ you object to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get no answer, of course, but Sous does not give a reaction at all. Not beyond glancing critically through the street at least. Fauntleroy still can’t contain their grin. Sous is so huge. That jogger was not the only one that takes a moment to admire him. Everyone must be thinking they have the most well-trained guard dog imaginable. Because that is unquestionably how he’s behaving right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Animal movements are easy, but only when he’s not thinking about them. Claquesous is oddly aware of his paws hitting the pavement. Paws, not feet. Pavement, not basement floor. The outside world is...it’s almost overwhelming. Animal senses do not belong to a human mind. Smells are almost tangible now, but the colours are slightly off. Faun’s hair is a less vibrant blue, but their scent is like </span>
  <em>
    <span>light </span>
  </em>
  <span>coming off them. Like an ever-present glow that he is aware of even when his attention is temporarily elsewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Temporarily, because for some reason they are by far the easiest - or best? - point of focus. Claquesous feels aware and present in the moment, but it is also like his mind wants to go in circles. All his observations keep circling back to Faun.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Happy Fauntleroy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s wolf’s voice, but it is closer than it has ever been. And it sounds different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy does look happy. Or do they smell happy?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yes.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Very good.’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why a chain?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous isn’t sure if he’s even hearing the voice. Maybe he’s just thinking it. ...isn’t that how it always is?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘The chain is necessary.’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not necessary</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yes it is. Without the chain we can’t be outside.’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Outside good!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I thought so.’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Better without chain </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel the chain collar around his neck, even when it’s slack. It is not unpleasant. But yes, without would be better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I know.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he also knows what the wolf wants. The wolf wants to run. He knows that because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>wants to run. The moon is not visible here, between the buildings. He needs to be somewhere where he can see it. Where there is moonlight- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous shakes his head and Fauntleroy immediately stops walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Their voice has tones in it he cannot hear with human ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without meaning to he whines and one half of him nearly pulls on his lead. Then he changes direction and pushes against them with his snout. Fauntleroy kneels and pets him, murmuring something apologetic about him not being able to talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He isn’t sure if it’s him or the wolf wagging the tail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It is Fauntleroy holding the chain.’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘That makes it acceptable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...yes</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy splutters when he licks their face, but they only because they’re laughing, and they do not push him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have almost made it home when Sous’ consciousness shifts again. Fauntleroy had expected it to happen at some point, but not like this. Not without warning. One moment he’s walking along beside them, the next he’s suddenly pulling the other way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sous, no,” they say firmly. “Here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf whines at them, pleading amber eyes shining in their direction, and gives another tug on the lead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Claquesous</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Fauntleroy frowns. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a single moment they are staring at a wild beast and then the wolf sits, ears drooping like a dejected dog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy exhales. He could have pulled himself free the first time if he had wanted to, no problem. Even when he’s resisting he still obeys. “I know you want to stay outside,” they say gently. “But we have to be back on time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks so unhappy they step forward to pet his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” they murmur. “But inside you won’t need to be on a leash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s like they can feel their heart twist in their chest. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>cute</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sous never bothers to be cute. “Tell you what. We don’t even have to go back to the basement. We can hang out in my room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They take a step away from him, the leash still slack. “Come on,” they say brightly. “Heel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, the wolf gets up and trots alongside them again. Fauntleroy keeps walking, but they feel like dancing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how much easier the full moons are nowadays, he still spends the following day sore and tired. By now Claquesous has almost gotten used to the absence of real pain, which makes the soreness more of an annoyance. It’s an everyday muscle ache kind of feeling, but it gets on his nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse knows this, which is why he makes a point of poking him in his shoulder when he enters the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous snarls at him. It’s a growl, plain and simple, he didn’t even think about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parnasse makes a delighted noise and tries to do it again, before Claquesous blocks his hand with his own. “Your eyes didn’t even change there,” he grins. “That’s just you now, isn’t it?” His grin calms to a smirk. “I like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous snorts, watching form the corner of his eye how Montparnasse quickly searches for something to say to undercut his sincerity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, the fact that Faun literally treats you like a pet, is that humiliating, are you into it, or what?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s not way in hell he’s having that conversation right now. Not ever, actually. "Go away—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Cause you </span>
  <em>
    <span>say </span>
  </em>
  <span>you don't remember, but I have seen them fuss over you and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse leans against the armrest of his chair and Claquesous actually bares his teeth at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” he grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have three knives on me right now,” Claquesous informs him. “Two I can reach. Either one of them would fit between your ribs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Come onnnn!” Montparnasse groans. “If it's a kink thing, you've gotta tell me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't,” he says coldly. “And it's not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So what is it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's nothing, it...feels nice. That's all." Whatever else it is is none of his fucking concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty </span>
  </em>
  <span>sure that makes it a kink thing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Think whatever the fuck you like then and piss off."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse gives him one of his prettiest, nastiest smiles. "You should let them do it to you while you're human, bet you'll still think it's </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>then..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous gives a sharp jab to the side with his elbow, but Montparnasse dodges it, just about, and manages to slide elegantly away from the chair just as Fauntleroy appears in the doorway with their bottle of soda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile doesn’t leave his face and Claquesous knows what he’s going to say even before the words leave his damn mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>a kink thing for Faun though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Claquesous surprise Fauntleroy doesn’t even blink. “What is a kink thing?” they ask, utterly unphased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The wolf thing, Parnasse presses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy clicks their tongue. “Nonsense,” they sniff, pushing past him to get to Claquesous’ chair. “It’s like this—" Claquesous shifts to allow them to sit on his lap while they count on their fingers. “Wolf, cute. Sous, hot. Sous getting wolfish, still hot. And you—" They point at Montparnasse. “You watch out I don’t send a text to “Petit Prouvaire rose emoji wilting rose emoji” to ask what </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>kinks are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse blanches. “How the fuck—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy has a smile as brilliantly mean as Montparnasse’s. “Mm maybe you shouldn’t leave your phone unattended while you harass my boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a frantic moment of anger Parnasse decides finding his phone takes priority over cursing at Fauntleroy and Faun makes a delightfully amused noise that makes Claquesous smile even wider than Montparnasse’s flash of fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faun looks down at him with twinkling eyes and he grins back up at them. He likes they way they look at him. He always does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thought creeps into his head. “Faun—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was that word they just used? “Did you say when I go wolfish?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A faint blush blooms on their cheeks. “Well what do you call it?” they say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t call it anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then.” They sound just a touch defensive. “What’s wrong with wolfish?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous makes a placating sound. “It’s a good word. It works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was a fantastic idea. The moonlit park is wonderful. Fauntleroy has never seen the wolf this happy. They were pretty sure Sous was still around a moment ago, but now he seems to have gone. The wolf is running and rolling like he’s never been free before. Maybe he hasn’t, in a way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet was very nervous about dropping them off, but they did at least persuade him to leave. They’ll make sure Sous is back on his leash by the time he comes back to pick them up again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf charges past them and Fauntleroy laughs in the mild night air. There’s no harm done. They never </span>
  <em>
    <span>promised </span>
  </em>
  <span>Babet they wouldn’t let him off his leash. It was just heavily implied by their actions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, so maybe that’s just a more elegant way of lying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But their boyfriend just chased after a stick they threw so they really don’t care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy glances fondly through Sous’ room past the tangle of his curls. There’s an awful lot of their stuff in his room by now. They rake their fingers through his hair, messing it up even further. Claquesous is resting on top of them with his head against their chest, his arms lightly hugging their waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A perfect place to be, as far as they’re concerned, but they </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>been lying here for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you let go for a sec?” they murmur. “I can’t reach my book.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous shifts a little, until he slowly tips his head and opens open brown eye to look at them. “Mm,” he hums. “I asked him, we both say no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh so now you’re ganging up on me,” Fauntleroy huffs. “Is that how it is?” But they’re smiling too wide to even manage a scowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous’ smug little smile before he puts his head down again is making their heart do a joyful twist in their chest. He's so different than how he was before. He never used to be this easy, this relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when he’s transformed...he’s so strong and free. Fauntleroy combs their fingers through his hair again and he makes a pleased noise at the back of his throat. They smile and then they speak without thinking about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes I wish I could join you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous’ eyes lift to their face. “Join me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On full moon nights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His expression barely changes, there is just the slightest puzzled look to it. "But you do?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes but I mean, really join you.” They could be free and run and play. “Be </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous looks away. He sits up, very slowly. "...you shouldn't want that, Faun."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why not?" The words come out pleading. Yearning. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>this. Now they’ve said it out loud the want of it is suddenly so strong that it seems impossible for them not not have noticed it before. But Sous is looking at them with that heavy, serious look that he used to get all the time when they talked about anything to do with werewolves. They had hoped they had done away with that look….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because it's painful,” he answers gravely. “And terrifying. I spent so long not knowing who I was or what I had done the night before. Even now I'm only mostly in control- I wouldn't want you to go through that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They meet his gaze, refusing to let his heaviness weight them down as well. "It would be different for me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How could you know that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I would have you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous’s protests momentarily die on his lips. The sheer </span>
  <em>
    <span>trust </span>
  </em>
  <span>in Faun’s eyes. A wild, furious emotion is burning it’s way through his mind, reminding him how dangerously close he is at any given moment to just let Fauntleroy whatever they think would make them happy. But it’s a blind trust. And they’re wrong about this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I couldn't take care of you like you do for me. I wouldn't be in my right mind."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But you do!” they argue. “Every full moon. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>take care of me. Just in a different way."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head. He knows what they mean and they’re almost right. Even as the wolf he is strong and smart enough to protect them, if he can stay present and aware at least. But even with his mind intact his body has disabilities. And the wolf is still there. Meaning to be harmless, he has learned that, but frantic and unpredictable in his animal instincts. He does not even want to think about Faun being in such pain. The wolf in him would panic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy does not argue, but they do not back down either. Or rather, they are not resigned. He knows what resigned looks like in them. This is not it. They shuffle a little closer to them on the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you think we could talk if we were both wolves?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wolves don't talk,” he says flatly. He can’t let them romanticize this. He can’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faun frowns at him. "You had a conversation with a dog last time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You mean I snarled at a dog, and he barked at me. Sounds have meanings, but I hardly count it as a language."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You understand what I say to you!” they protest. “You even remember!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember. The wolf doesn’t.” The moment those words leave his mouth he’s not quite sure of them anymore, but the way Faun seems to think about it isn’t right either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even when you’re all wolf you understand me,” Fauntleroy insists. “And you communicate. With your expression and with movements, with noises.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's still different."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Doesn't feel very different in the moment."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stings. It almost feels like back in the beginning, when it felt like he did not want them with him. Fauntleroy knows that’s not what this is about. He’s trying to protect them again, just like before. But things are </span>
  <em>
    <span>different </span>
  </em>
  <span>now. They get to watch him have fun now. Run through the park and frolic in the moonlight. Is it really so bad of them to want to be a part of that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They want to be his companion in everything. What they have now...it feels for forever. Shouldn’t that come with being together in everything? They don’t even want to bring it up the next time it slips out. The wish is just stuck in their head and their heart and they-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Faun you’re talking about me fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>turning </span>
  </em>
  <span>you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice sounds so sharp that Fauntleroy shuts their mouth abruptly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not doing that to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if—" The look in his eyes sends a nasty jolt through their stomach. “Sous, what—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Faun...I got this way after nearly getting my arm torn off. I think I almost bled to death.” Claquesous’ looks almost grey. He’s barely looking at them, but Fauntleroy can just feel him starting to shake. “I...I don't know what it would take to make you like me, but I don't want to do that to you. I can't. What if you didn't— The thought of your blood on my mouth makes me </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Faun."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey,” they croak, breaking through the lump in their throat. “It's okay. I didn't- I didn't know. I thought one little nip and I'd be running with you by the next full moon. I'm sorry, I- I won't bring it up again."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous lets them hug him, hiding his face in the crook of their shoulder when they pull him in, and they murmur another apology. One more mixed with a promise of affection this time. They don't want to make him hate the wolf again. He's come so far, and to see him backslide because they insisted he hurt them? That’s something they can’t do to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can tell they’re trying to make up for upsetting him. It isn’t helping. Mostly because it reminds him that he upset </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faun has to let this go, though. He can’t let them keep wishing for something that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to prevent. Even if part of him, he refuses to examine which part, also wishes they could be with him when the moon is ruling the night and everything shifts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy is just saying goodbye to Bizarro on the phone when Sous appears in their doorway. They raise their head but he waves at them to carry on. When they hang up he’s still leaning against the doorframe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You free tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As far as I know,” they smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” He gives them one of his impenetrable looks. “Want to pack an overnight bag and come for a trip?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get to their feet, bubbling with curiosity. “A non-work bag?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me ten minutes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous smirks. “Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty minutes later Faun is ready to follow him outside. They make a satisfying surprised squeak when they see the convertible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where did you get that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises an eyebrow at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, stupid question,” they snort. “What are you planning?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes are shining already. Good. "You'll see."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To their surprise Sous drives them all the way into the countryside. He drives them all the way into the countryside. They stop for food along the way, but nowhere else. And he barely talks. Not that that is particularly surprising, they’re used to being the one mostly filling their companionable silences. But this is clearly something he’s been planning for a while and they want to know what it is about. He’s not letting anything go though, not even a hint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finally stops the car and turns off the engine it’s in the middle of nowhere. Fauntleroy looks around as he sits back. “Are we waiting for something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy tips their head up to look at the sky. It’s a clear night and there are far more stars here than in the middle of Paris. So they sit. In silence, in the dark. Until Sous shifts beside them and they see the moon, a perfectly sliced first quarter, rise above the horizon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly it draws itself up from behind the earth, until it is hanging free in the velvet sky and everything floods with pale silver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy draws a breath, but before the question can leave their mouth Claquesous starts the car. And drives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet does not let Claquesous drive for jobs if he can help it. The only time he puts Sous behind the wheel is when they need to get out of somewhere at all cost. Claquesous is an excellent driver. But this is revealed </span>
  <em>
    <span>exclusively </span>
  </em>
  <span>by the fact that he has never crashed yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is going down the winding hilly roads so fast it is almost genuinely frightening. Fauntleroy’s heart pounds and their lungs struggle to keep up as their air is being cut off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing?” they gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind is rushing in their ears, but they still hear his reply, low, but almost tangible in their chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're chasing the moon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And no sooner has he said that, or the moon comes into view again. Everything is either pitch black or bathed in moonlight and the moon seems larger and larger and the night wind is in their hair and they're going so fast and everything seems so quiet all around that Fauntleroy can't stand it anymore. They throw their head back and scream, shouting all their feelings into the rushing air..</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside them, Claquesous grins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They start crying when he stops the car again. Happy tears, it looks like, but still crying. He hates to see them cry, but this time he does understand. The wolf in him feels like crying too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy scrambles into his lap with unashamed clumsiness. There is no elegant way to clamber through a car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tucks them against his chest and holds them close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This, this is better than arguing. Faun sort of have blinders on when it comes to him, and the wolf. They see only the good they want to see. He loves them for that, but they don’t think about how things could go wrong, so he has to. He doesn't want to terrify them with his old experiences, nor of the way he got bitten. But he could never put them through any of that, even if he can't properly explain what he's protecting them from. Still, he doesn’t want to push them away either. Doesn’t want to deny them when all they want is to be with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This may not stop then from wanting. It probably won’t rid them of their desire to run wild with him,  but at least they know part of how he feels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he’s tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy hides their face in the folds of his shirt for as long as they still feel themself shake in his arms. He tries so hard. He cares so </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They know this is an unspoken apology. For not being able to give them what they wish. But he really doesn't need to apologize. He hasn't done anything wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have him. That's more than enough to make up for the occasional pang of jealousy when they have to stand by and watch him go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moon is full, the night air is warm, and Fauntleroy is seriously considering the possibility that while Sous might not remember what they say to the wolf, the wolf certainly remembers what they said to Sous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because try as they might, there is not a lot of standing by and watching him go for them to do. This is a very wolfish night, certainly not one where Sous’ human side is in control, and from the moment they got to the park the wolf has been insistent that they play with him. He tries to slow down his trot so they can keep up and whenever they stop he darts around them, bowing and wagging until they jump at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve never played like this before, not so very physical at least, and it only takes a few minutes for them to be breathless with laughing and running. The wolf jumps around exactly like a dog, only quieter. No barking, no whining. A quiet reminder that there’s a predator behind the giant puppy, not a dog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy pauses, gasping for breath. “I’m gonna h- </span>
  <em>
    <span>oof—"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The giant, heavy frame of the wolf collides with theirs and Fauntleroy gets knocked on their ass with a lung-emptying jolt. All his overexcitement vanishes immediately and Fauntleroy wishes they had the breath to laugh at the way his ears drop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” they manage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf scrambles left and right in a distressed manner and suddenly darts off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy looks up with a groan, they do feel a bit knocked about, but he comes back immediately. He’s dragging the blanket they brought to sit on towards them from where it was lying a little way away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a good boy,” they laugh. “But I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, promise. I could have—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Off he goes again, bounding away to return with a stick. He drops it in their lap, pushes a wet nose against their neck and immediately makes off in the opposite direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they manage to convince him to sit and lay down by them their lap is quite full.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's see. The blanket. A rock. A broken frisbee. Two sticks. That's more than I need, really, I'm fine." They scratch behind his ears. “Apology accepted, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf sits up happily and cocks his head to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I should run with you just now,” they say. “I’ll probably fall over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf looks up further, at the moon hanging bright in the sky, and whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Go on then,” they say. “Go chase the moon.” They don’t mean to, but they sound just a little wistful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It almost looks like the wolf frowns. Then he blinks, slowly, and comes to stand before them. He takes a step back, then forward, nudges them, and stands again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy gets to their feet, staring into his eyes. They’re yellow, but dark. Deep, dark yellow and so expressive that it’s almost as if they can hear his voice in the back of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re still mine. Even if you can't be like me. Even when I can’t speak or you can’t understand. You're still mine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifts as soon as they’re standing, pushing his flank against their leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You... You want to carry me?” Hesitantly Fauntleroy leans against him and when he does not move away they carefully try to sit on his back. He’s easily large and strong enough to carry them, but it had not occurred to them that it was a possibility. Wolves aren’t horses, surely it’s not the same. They awkwardly plant their hands on the back of his neck. “Sous, why—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They cut themself off with a barely audible gasped curse. Their arms instinctually wrap around the wolf’s neck as he moves and they hold on tight as he breaks into a run as effortlessly as if they didn’t weigh a thing. For a long, breathless moment Fauntleroy squeezes their eyes shut and all they’re aware of is fur against their skin, movement shaking through their body and their heart pounding out of control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they open their eyes to the moon-drenched night, and laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet is waiting for them by the gate of the park when they come out with the wolf securely on his leash again. If waiting is the correct word for standing by his car looking like thunder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Faun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning to you too,” they say, with as much calm dignity as they can create while still being very aware of what a mess they must look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf’s step grows a little hesitant beside them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw </span>
  </em>
  <span>you,” Babet hisses, gesturing wildly towards the park. “You were bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>riding </span>
  </em>
  <span>him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf holds still and gives a low, warning growl at the back of his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet takes a step back and holds up his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Fauntleroy hums. “Good boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not aware tonight then,” Babet mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can see he’s not, look at his eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet makes a despairing sound and shakes his head. “Just get him in the damn car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if you’re being like this,” Fauntleroy says firmly. Maybe Babet is kind of right to be upset, but the wolf doesn’t know that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet looks from them to the wolf with obvious discomfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You promised, Babet,” Fauntleroy reminds him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs and crouches down, albeit reluctantly. He holds out his hand like they taught him. “I’m not threatening either of you,” he says wearily. He glances up at Fauntleroy. “I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf takes a long moment to stare at him, but then he takes a step forward and sniffs his hand before giving it a decided nudge out of the way with his snout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Babet says wryly. He gets up and opens the back door of the car. “If you would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on,” Fauntleroy smiles and they let go of the leash, allowing him to jump inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet mutters something under his breath but they ignore it, carefully doing up their seat belt before letting the wolf sprawl out across the back seat and their lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was really good, Babet,” they say as he puts the car in gear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next month I’m driving you out of the city,” he says gruffly, neglecting to answer. “And for fuck sake wear something darker if you’re gonna be running wild like that. Someone’s going to bloody see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dark yellow eyes give a roll and Fauntleroy hides their smile. “Yes Babet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing Claquesous sees that morning when he rolls over in bed to stretch his back is Fauntleroy’s backpack. Lying half-open on the floor with weird odds and ends sticking out of it. He reaches out to pull it closer, which earns him a disapproving grunt from Faun, who is still trying to lie against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s all this rubbish doing in your bag?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"First of all,” Fauntleroy chimes behind his back. “It's not rubbish, and second I should be asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous lets go of the stick he just pulled loose from the tangle of the blanket with a most unpleasant feeling of deja vu. He looks back at them. “I didn’t—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laugh, purposefully blind to his embarrassment, and snuggle up to him. “It was a good time. For both of us. But the park is a bit small for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pull on him until he’s lying on his back again, more corfortable for tucking up against. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babet says he’ll bring us out of the city next time. Maybe once it’s warmer he can just drop us off there. I’ll bring sleeping bags, clothes for you. We can sleep under the stars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous hesitates. The idea of having room, actual room, no confines anywhere, is yearn inducing. Even with the wolf in him at his weakest. Or...is he at his weakest? It doesn’t quite feel like that anymore. It used to, after the full moon, but things are different now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes for a moment and asks a silent question. There’s no answer. Just a memory of Fauntleroy running through the grass, with wild hair all tangled up in moonlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his eyes to look at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The further we get the choppier it gets, but...bonding</p><p>Thanks for sticking with us &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fair warning: we need a drop of angst before we can end in goodness~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He’s running. Fauntleroy is running and he is running and he can’t stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>moon!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>God yes the moon. The moon is so bright. And the night air is in his fur, but he can’t-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>moon! Faun! night! Run! chase!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes he wants to chase. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>chasing. But he has to be careful. Faun has to be careful-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>go! Faun, go! go, go, go, Faun, go, Run!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re laughing. Weaving around to try and keep ahead of him. He could catch them so easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>go, run! run fast, chase Run- </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>What if they get </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, good run!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes but-</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Run</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I can’t really hold </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>accountable, but you at least should be able to keep track of the damn time.” Babet isn’t taking his eyes off the road - a good thing considering the speed at which he is driving - but Fauntleroy doesn’t need to see his expression to know he’s genuinely pissed at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were running.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet makes an exasperated sound and glares at the horizon. “The damn sun is going to come up.” Sous, his head in their lap, whines in confirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well pull over then,” Fauntleroy says, unbothered. They are </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>and tired in the best way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Babet hisses nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, somewhere sheltered. We have a few minutes still.” They comb their fingers calmingly through Sous’ fur. He’s not comfortable with this, they can feel it. “I’m sorry, love,” they murmur. “I’ll keep better track of the time next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whines softly and nuzzles against their stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet no longer scolds or argues. He drives, fast, until he finds a backroad to turn onto. Just in time too, because the moon is starting to sink below the horizon and Fauntleroy can feel Sous shaking against them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” they murmur. “You can come back. It’s safe here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Babet asks nervously, turning around in the driver’s seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Fauntleroy replies, keeping their voice low. “He’s just uneasy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shudder pulls through the wolf’s body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babet could you pull the blanket over him?” they ask, raking their fingers down Sous’ shaking back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does and Fauntleroy has just enough attention to spare to note how carefully he moves. Not afraid or cautious, but with care. They smile at him and behind him, through the windshield, the sun drowns out the moon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy knows how to hold Claquesous steady and he does not thrash. There isn’t quite enough room in the backseat of the car and first his paws and then his feet push against the far door as the spasms of his body force him to stretch. That is soon over though and Fauntleroy gently tucks the blanket around him, pushing him gently down again when he tries to sit up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rest a bit, okay?” they murmur, cradling his head in their lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous looks up at them, the gold slowly draining from his darkening eyes. His breathing is heavy and they can feel his heart thump, slightly more frantic than his transformations usually leave him nowadays. How far he’s come…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back,” Babet says, sounding soft around the edges for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous lifts his hand in a slightly sardonic two-fingered wave and sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet smirks and turns back around, starting the engine. “Well, I’ve driven both of you round in worse condition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, Sous has driven </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>round in worse condition,” Fauntleroy hums.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t remind me,” Babet grunts. “I’m still grateful I passed out halfway through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous doesn’t laugh, but he grins silently, his eyes slowly closing as his breathing evens out by bit by bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up at them when his eyes open again and Fauntleroy fondly strokes his unkempt hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was fun, right?” they smile, speaking softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” they ask. There is a strange hesitance in his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing I just, I don’t want to go too far and hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. “You wouldn’t.” Fauntleroy rests their hand against his cheek. “You’d never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t protest, but as usual, he does not seem fully convinced either. Well, as long as he doesn't start trying not to run with them. Or do anything that might get them hurt. Because they don't want to lose that just because he might be nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hungry?” Babet hums. “There’s bound to be a drive-through open already somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like this?” Sous snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ve seen worse, trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you’ve worked in fast food,” Fauntleroy says, tilting their head trying to catch Babet’s eye in the rearview mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then don’t ask and answer my question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could eat,” Sous yawns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quel surprise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone in the room is staring at Montparnasse, but it does not escape Claquesous’ notice that Fauntleroy’s expression is considerably more excited and less astonished than all the rest of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying,” Montparnasse shrugs elegantly. “We basically have a huge fuck-off attack dog at our disposal that we’re not making use of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wolf,” Claquesous growls. Faun is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>one he will suffer dog vocabulary from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse rolls his eyes. “Yes, fine, but no one </span>
  <em>
    <span>else </span>
  </em>
  <span>knows that, do they? As far as Finistère is concerned we’d show up with a living weapon that could tear his throat out if he tried to cross us again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re out of your mind,” Babet says firmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Fauntleroy speaks up suddenly and Sous curses internally even though he knew it was coming. “It would be one </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell </span>
  </em>
  <span>of an intimidation tactic. And something they don’t expect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly!” Montparnasse grins. “And you’re just you most of the time now, aren’t you? So why the fuck can’t you go on jobs with us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous makes an effort to unclench his teeth. “Because that’s the fastest fucking way to get me to lose control and have the wolf take over,” he snaps. “He knows that body better than I do. Every time I have to react fast it’s a damn coin toss which one of us will answer the call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that bad, is it?” Gueulemer says cautiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous glares at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse treats him to a dissatisfied frown. “Okay, so what if it’s the wolf? I’ve seen how you react to Faun when you’re like that, as long as they stay with you that should be just fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to be fucking kidding. “Absolutely not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come off it, Sous,” Parnasse sighs. “Your ‘I’m a monster’ act is getting old.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, fuck off,” Fauntleroy snaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse raises an eyebrow. “As if you don’t agree with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous gets to his feet. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, Parnasse. It’s a stupid risk to take.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>risk</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus fucking christ. “The risk of putting a damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>animal </span>
  </em>
  <span>in a situation where it might get hurt or scared or cornered enough that it has to fight its way out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse has gotten to his feet as well. “If Faun—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Faun is in my way I might well fucking trample them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns around, but Faun does not look as upset as they just sounded. “You wouldn’t, Sous, and you know it.” Their blue eyes stare straight up at his. “Your primal instinct is </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>to protect me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous can feel his shoulders sagging relentingly and he just manages to catch himself. He wishes they wouldn’t do this with the others present. “Maybe so. But instinct is still no control. When things go wrong I don’t want to act on blind instinct, I want to have a choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy nods, slowly. “Well...that’s something we can practice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Babet protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Montparnasse says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can practice,” Fauntleroy says. “See if the wolf can follow more complex directions, deal with pressure, noises, that sort of stuff.” They sit up primly. “There’s no reason why this should be dangerous, if we prepare it well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous grabs a hand into his hair. It’s not like the thought has never crossed his mind. He hates having to stay at home. Loathes having to plan around the full moon. But-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy is watching him, their expression slowly changing. “If you don’t want to do it, you shouldn’t,” they say, voice suddenly low. “It is your choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet looks like he also has something to say on that, but he keeps his mouth shut. And Montparnasse, astonishingly, has deflated a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right now my answer is no,” he says firmly. It would be a stupid idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like you want something to change it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous looks at Gueulemer in surprise. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right now it’s no,” he repeats. “So, what do you need to make it a yes.” He gestures at Montparnasse. “Not like you haven’t told Parnasse to piss off before. None of us are forcing you. So what do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks from Gueulemer to Fauntleroy, who is looking at Gueul with an appreciative expression. Gueul always does have a habit of pulling surprises like this. Well, he’s not wrong. He’s more than capable of saying no. ...if it’s not Faun asking. But this is different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>be useful. Potentially. Maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a couple paces through the room. It can’t all depend on Faun. That’d be a mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns around to face his friends. “For a start,” he grunts. “You lot need to be able to tell whether you’re talking to me or my wolf. If Faun can teach you that, we’ll talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is completely incomprehensible to Fauntleroy how the others cannot tell what state of mind Claquesous is in. He is literally Sous in wolf shape on his best nights. Never was such sarcasm seen on a canine face. How can they not see?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They thought Montparnasse was able to tell the difference, but it turns out he was going mostly on </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>mannerisms, not Sous’. Fauntleroy hadn’t really been paying attention to it, but they do speak differently to the wolf when he’s fully animal. Sous is capable of understanding a calm “you were amazing” after a training session, even if he still appreciates a scratch behind his ear. The wolf needs a more deliberately excited vocal tone, he needs to know he’s been a good boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now he’s getting better at it. At least better than Babet and Gueul who are still terrible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” they say, clapping their hands together. “Let’s try again. And don’t help them this time, Parnasse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Claquesous!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the wolf comes into the living room Fauntleroy can see he’s still humanly aware. He sits down in front of them and waits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think?” Fauntleroy prompts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gueulemer looks uncertain, but BAbet just looks fed up. “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For fuck’s sake. “Look at his eyes. Do you see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do they look like Sous’ or a wolf's?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet gives them a frantic expression. “They- he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a wolf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse slumps in his chair and looks at the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on!” they groan. “At least try! Look at the colour, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>expression</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Gueulemer interrupts. “He's doing that glare thing Sous does when somebody says something dumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Fauntleroy exclaims. “Exactly!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Gueul smiles, slowly tilting his head. “Yeah, yeah I think I can see it now. His eyes used to be a bit more… wide? And lighter? Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Fauntleroy takes a breath of relief. Montparnasse has informed them that the colour changes in Sous’ eyes are not nearly as obvious to other people. At least not to him. He’s still practicing with seeing the difference. ‘Not everyone has spent literal days gazing into his face, Faun,’ he had sneered. But after a while he had agreed that there was a darkening and a brightening going on. Just less obvious than when it happens in his human form. Or so he says. It seems pretty darn obvious to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The brighter the yellow, the stronger the wolf-mind. Generally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Generally</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Babet grunts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re dealing with the occult here, okay?” Fauntleroy sighs. “Not science. That’s hardly my fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He also moves his head more when he’s still him,” Montparnasse points out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s still him when he’s the wolf, Parnasse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time Parnasse and Sous both roll their eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t give me that,” they scold. “Now, Sous, can you try and let go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s strange to see a wolf move uncomfortably, but that’s what he does. He doesn’t give any indication of refusal though, he just comes towards them and Fauntleroy puts a hand on his back. Claquesous has been practicing with deliberately giving the wolf free reign, but it goes against his past inclinations so strongly he still struggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hum an encouraging noise and stroke his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at his eyes,” they whisper, when they hear the slight shift in Sous’ breathing. “Really look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parnasse and Gueul crowd around them and Fauntleroy makes an attentive sound as the look in Claquesous’ eyes shifts. There is the bright yellow of the wolf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Gueulemer breathes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you see it this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good!” Fauntleroy ruffles the wolf’s fur. “Hello! You came in </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>calm. Good boy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf gleefully pushes his nose under they hand and then lifts up his face to look from Parnasse to Gueulemer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He does recognise me, doesn’t he,” Gueulemer says, and he sounds almost shy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Course he does,” they say fondly. They grin at Montparnasse. “I think we can </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>go out next month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf makes an excited little movement and they laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yeah,” Montparnasse grins back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell did you want to take him along to?” Babet demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It really doesn’t matter that much, as far as Fauntleroy is concerned. As longs as they get to skulk around with him at their heels. “Just the chop shop thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to bring him to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>break-in</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He can watch our backs!" they defend. “Can’t you, Sous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives a proud little roffle with his paws in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See,” they coo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, so now he’s conscious again?” Babet demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf snorts and his eyes darken to a faintly frustrated expression.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well there’s that question answered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No it isn’t! He makes that noise all the damn time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>you to—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sous suddenly steps away from them and to everyone’s surprise he puts a paw on Babet’s shoe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet leans back in his chair, away from him. “What—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does it again and this time it’s more like a slap...or a kick. A kick to the side of a shoe, like he does when he’s human. Fauntleroy watches him tilt his head back and give a frustrated sniff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet looks at him in confused discomfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except he’s not. He’s not looking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babet,” Fauntleroy says gently. “It’s a lot easier to tell where he’s at if you actually meet his eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you stubborn old man,” Montparnasse sighs. He moves over, grabbing the back of Babet’s chair. “He’s chill with you now, no matter how much of a mutt he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous bares his teeth at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See?” Parnasse says. “Perfectly normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy bites their lip. They haven’t known Babet nearly as long as the others have and he’s...harder to get to know. But maybe, if they spent years seeing nothing but hate and fear in someone’s eyes, they’d have a hard time looking at them too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet sits in silence for a moment and then very slowly, he leans forward, with his arms on his knees, and looks at Claquesous’ eyes looking up at him from the wolf’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy can’t see the shift in expression themself, but Sous must have pulled a face at him, because Babet presses his lips together in a thin line for a moment before speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t sass me,” he grunts. “Now do that trick of yours again so I can see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being out on jobs during the full moon is...a challenge. Claquesous isn’t sure if the wolf fully understands that this isn’t the same as a trip to the park. His inability to talk has also never been this infuriating. But the heightened senses are useful. And the </span>
  <em>
    <span>adrenaline- </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adrenaline feels different coursing through an animal body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to admit though - privately, to himself - that the main perk of it is seeing Faun and Parnasse milk this situation for all it is worth. It’s worth being called a pet to see their reluctant business partners get progressively nervous while Montparnasse casually reminds Faun to please keep him in check this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That went very well, I think,” Fauntleroy chimes smugly in the car on the way back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking hilarious,” Parnasse grins. He’s driving, with his fancy nonsensical driving gloves on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous pushes his nose against Faun’s side, nuzzling them affectionately. They like being told they’ve done a good job. He doesn’t always remember to say it with words the next morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faun hums happily and the sound rolls down his body, tugging at his tail. They laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what,” Montparnasse speaks up. “I think we should push the meeting with Dupont back a few weeks. Would be useful to have a certain element of surprise there. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>expecting </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sous. He won’t be expecting this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous can feel the wolf stirr restlessly. Reacting to things that are not immediately before him is a struggle. The here and now is so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>through the wolf’s senses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faun and Parnasse are talking of people that aren’t here, things that are yet to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has done a lot of running tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking can wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> ---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy draws on their gloves. “Alright, so you’re gonna be okay with Parnasse, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine, and so will he. He knows to let me keep control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s odd to see Claquesous without his gear so close to a big job, but as soon as the moon rises he won’t need it. Sous still doesn’t think the wolf can be trusted, not fully. But he has come to trust the fact that he can keep control at least. That he won’t be running wild on instinct alone. Right now he looks as calm as he always does during preparations, unphased. He’s so… They love him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” they smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re going to be okay scouting ahead?” There are flecks of amber in his eyes already and it makes the attentive expression on his face all the more penetrating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” they say confidently. “I know what we’re up against.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” he nods and the pride in his voice is so tangible that they feel their chest warm. “And we’ll be close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paris is dark and hard and full of sharp sensations. The wolf does not like it here, but Claquesous does. He knows this and he’s growing familiar to knowing it with these eyes and ears. With this nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world is smaller like this, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>richer</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s being aware of so many things all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it is not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because something is missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claqueous falters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment ago they were still in range of his senses and now they are not. Claquesous lowers his head and searches for their scent, slowing his step. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In front of him Montparnasse turns around to look at him and lets out a sharp hiss. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sous</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What gives?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignores him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Claquesous</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Montparnasse is keeping his voice down, but he sounds tense now. “Did you go dog again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous looks up at him, glaring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks relieved. “Okay so what’s the fucking problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence that follows is tinged with frustration. Claquesous bares his teeth. He can’t tell him. Can’t explain that only a few seconds ago Faun was still near. Out of sight, yes. But near. And now...now they’re not. Not near enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Montparnasse protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where are they? His paws shuffle on the concrete. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Left. No. Right. No. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly Montparnasse is kneeling in front of him and he smells too strongly of all kinds of things that aren’t Faun. He’s talking, but Claquesous doesn’t hear him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where is Fauntleroy?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>where</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment he feels blind and deaf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he hears them scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world is full of red hot pain, coming in sudden, shocking flashes after the first burst. Fauntleroy knows better than to try and get up, they’re aware of the sharp taste of iron in their mouth and they’re no longer holding their knife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the risk of scouting ahead. You’re the first to see, but the first to be seen. Fauntleroy knows this. And they also know they’re in no position to fight two men at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they don’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead they stay down, forehead resting against the concrete, and laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut them up,” one of their attackers hisses, but the other one is not so cautious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s so fucking funny?” he demands, loud and abrasive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy grins at the dark, barely looking up at him. “You made me scream,” they hiss through bloody teeth. “You really shouldn’t have done that—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck are they on about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-not tonight—" Fauntleroy gasps. Their head is spinning but their arms and legs still feel strong as they push experimentally against the ground. How long has it been since they screamed? How many seconds? How many corners in the dark? They lift their head and look at the alleyway they came from. The second man is blocking it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why would that be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They smile as their vision stops swimming. “Cause yesterday you might have had a chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man standing on guard screams. But only for as long as it takes his body to hit the ground. The man standing over them screams too. First because of the beast and then because of Fauntleroy’s knife slicing past the back of his ankle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They scramble away as he goes down, just fast enough to stay well clear of the wolf as he leaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their decision to watch is not so much a decision as an inevitability. They’re pretty sure this is neither Sous nor the wolf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Make sure you maul them to death. We don't need more werewolves in Paris."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man further away is still twitching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later he isn’t anymore and the wolf is making a valiant effort to subject him to equal treatment compared to his partner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy sits upright, decides against actually standing up, and leans back against the nearest wall with a breathless laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf’s head snaps up and a heartbeat later he’s almost on top of them. “Shh, shh, it’s okay,” they hush. "I'm alright, love, but you're getting blood on my clothes. Clean your face before you nuzzle me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anxious, amber eyes peer into their face. Soft, sweet eyes above a muzzle dripping with blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really,” they say, carefully tipping their head forward and burying their hands in his fur. “I’m good. Thanks to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi guys,” Fauntleroy sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Montparnasse starts laughing and doesn’t stop, ending up doubled over next to a rather pale Gueulemer while Babet pushes past them and kneels beside the wolf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Faun?” he says sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just my head, I think,” they say. “And some scrapes.” They turn their head to the side. It does feel like there’s something drying on their skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf whines miserably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not as bad as it looks,” Babet replies immediately and he reaches out to pat the wolf on the shoulder. “You did good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy beams at him and he gives them a half-scowling look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you walk?” he asks gruffly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet helps them to their feet, but they’re not quite steady yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grunts. “Gueul!” he says sharply. “Help Faun walk. And stop snickering Parnasse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf gives a short growl and squirms in between them and Babet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t need to be carried,” Babet says. “Just supported.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf stares at him with silent, yellow eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babet breathes out an exhasperated curse. “Doesn’t mean what bloody shape he’s in, does it, suit yourself, carry them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Parnasse—"</span>
  </em>
  <span> He turns around on his heels. “Put your sodding phone away and help us with the bodies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy swallows their laugh and smiles so wide to themself it almost hurts, slowly leaning forward until they can put their weight on the wolf’s back. “Do you know where we’re going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are answered with a confident little snort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ride back home is a bit of a shambles. Fur is a lot harder to clean than skin and Babet isn’t fond of getting blood all over his upholstery. Most of the ride is spent trying to convince Babet to let them give him a bath and trying to keep the wolf from licking the scrapes on their arms. Something which he really wants to do and their denial of his caring affection clearly distresses him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s confused enough by it that they remember to bring it up by the time Claquesous has come out of the shower, once again on two legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy still thinks it’s a shame Babet forbade them to give the wolf a bath. It would have been so cute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure if he would have let you,” Claqueous says with vague amusement as he dries his hair. “I remember the concept of being wet getting progressively less appealing when I transform.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could have </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” they insist, waving his concerns away. They’re already in their pajamas and they see Sous’ eyes follow the movement of their arms. The scrapes are clearly visible under their short sleeves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Sous,” they say, remembering. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you lick my wounds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Does he remember… No. But he remembers them being hurt. He remembers needing to make it better. And not being allowed to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...yes,” he says slowly. “Sort of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You looked really upset about it,” Fauntleroy says guiltily. Their hair is starting to frizz from the hot humidity in the bathroom. “I’m sorry,” they continue earnestly. “But you don't want to turn me. We don't know exactly how that works, and if it's anything like animal infections, that could be enough. I was just respecting your wishes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pang of dread in his stomach is faster than the full realisation of what they just said. Fuck. He’ll have to ask Babet to look into that next time he’s looking at occult books. How infectious </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>he exactly?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearly he did not keep his expression in check, because Faun has slid off the towel cabinet and is coming to lean against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But hey, Sous, you didn’t hurt me. “Quite the opposite, in fact.” They rest their cheek against his arm and looks at the two of them in the foggy mirror over the sink. “Your wolf did exactly what you would have done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” he hums. He remembers the taste of blood. “I think we might have done this together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fauntleroy’s smile widens, one arm reaching around his waist. “Well you were brilliant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claquesous feels a pleased, echo-like feeling in his chest closely following his own gratification at their compliment. Almost the same. But not quite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks from the vague reflection in the glass to Fauntleroy’s face, framed by frizzy pink curls. “Turns out we agree on something else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d say your list is getting quite long, but I’ll bite,” they smirk. “What do you agree on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks into their eyes long enough to feel the two halves of his person overlap before he opens his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We get to eat whoever has the gall to lay as much as fucking finger on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a good thing he isn’t looking at the mirror anymore. He would have hated to have missed that blush on their cheeks.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Being the only ones to stay home from a job is much, much more fun when it’s just them and Sous. Fauntleroy is sprawled out unapologetically on the living room couch with their feet in his lap. Things have been good lately. Comfortable at home, triumphant in business. Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And tonight is good too. The clock has just ticked past three in the morning and Fauntleroy can feel themself sliding comfortably in the space that is simultaneously past their sleeping point and out of reach of full rationality.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They whiled most of the evening away with talk, but now they’ve been lying here in comfortable silence for a while. So much so that they genuinely have to catch up for a second when Claquesous speaks to them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got to explain something to me, Bouquetière.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy smiles. His voice is low and relaxed, smooth enough to tickle down their spine. They don’t care if he’s doing it on purpose or not, they love it. “Mm?” they hum. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tilts his head, dark eyes fixing on them attentively and Fauntleroy shamelessly enjoys the way every last bit of his attention shifts to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why do you like it when I go wolfish?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flash of heat floods their face and settles in their cheeks. They were not expecting that. “It...it looks nice is all."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous smirks, his hand is still resting on their ankle. "That's not an answer. Worse, it's a non-answer."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What?!” they protest, feeling the heat travel down their neck. “You look nice!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Specifically how?" he demands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Your- I—" Their heart, being no help at all, is fluttering uselessly under his gaze. “Your eyes are really pretty."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Pretty?" He’s smirking again and it’s clearly audible in his voice this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes! And, um, well, you move different, and your teeth..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Are 'pretty' too, then, hm?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"They're... Stop looking at me like that!" Fauntleroy pulls up their legs, away from his lap, nearly squirming at the way his eyes twinkle. When he first asked they were worried for a second that this was something he still had a problem with, but it doesn’t seem that way anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looking at you like what?” His smirk widens a little and he turns more fully towards them, shifting his weight on the couch. “Like this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And before their eyes, with perfect control, he blinks, and opens his eyes with an amber glow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy can’t really help the small gasp that escapes their lips, but neither are they trying. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sous—</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s easier now,” he says, a sort of triumph shimmering through his amusement. “Less of a struggle. I don’t think it’s linked to my temper anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinks again and his eyes darken to their usual deep brown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even with their heart skipping an unreasonable amount of beats Fauntleroy doesn’t fail to recognise how amazing this is. It’s like seeing him blink awake in his wolf form, but reverse. And much, much more controlled. It makes sense, in a way, that coming to accept the wolf more would make this easier for him. Since it’s Sous who is in primary control in the first place here. But still. “Sous,” they breathe again, a smile dancing around their lips. “That’s—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-convenient,” he grins and as he does so, and bares his teeth, they lengthen just a touch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t blink this time and Fauntleroy sees specks of gold melt away the brown as they spread throughout his eyes, making heat they just felt on their cheeks flutter wildly through their midriff. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Very</span>
  </em>
  <span> convenient.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous’ movements change, suddenly fluid and animal as he leans towards them, and even as he finishes speaking Fauntleroy can hear the growl purr in the back of his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck—" they breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His grin has fangs now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes Fauntleroy half a second to decide to push themself off the couch and start running and about nine to find out how much faster Sous is like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels less...fragmented. That’s probably the right word. How exactly that explains that by now he is aware of the inadvertent changing of his eyes Claquesous doesn’t quite know. Surely it should mean that it would begin to feel the same to him. But it doesn’t. There’s a clear difference. It’s just- it both feels like </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Maybe that’s why it’s easier to control now. Why he’s awake during the moon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s strange. If he could have told himself he’d ever get here - before all this, before Faun - he would have seen it as overpowering the wolf. But that’s not what it feels like at all. It feels more like the wolf is always there now. And in exchange he is more present when the moon is full. Like there is no longer a he and it, but an </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And us that is just him. An us that might fade into an indistinguishable me in time. Maybe. It’s difficult.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or it would be difficult.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it still mattered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits up a little to watch Faun as they stir their lemonade on the tiny kitchen counter. If they bring over any more stuff they’re going to end up turning this safe house into an actual apartment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” they demand, when they come back with their giant glass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives them a fond shake of his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy nestles back into their spot on the bed, placing their glass of fresh lemonade on the small dresser beside it. This has been the most wonderful, lazy day. They reach out for Sous and make a coaxing sound at the back of their throat. They want to restore their exact position from before their craving for liquid sugar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous hums at them and lets himself slide down, moving over until he can rest his head in their lap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gleefully they murmur their wordless approval and after a sip of their drink they busy themself with combing their fingers through his hair until the curls are almost turning to waves. That is the only drawback to this. But it doesn’t really bear mentioning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous has his eyes closed more often than not, only moving his head to get them to reach certain spots their fingers are passing over. But when he does open his eyes to look at them, there is yellow glinting in the brown. That’s been happening more and more lately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Your eyes are mixed again,” they say fondly, scratching him behind his ear just to see him melt a bit. They no longer have to worry about mentioning his eyes to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sous makes a thoughtful, easy noise of acknowledgment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy smiles tilting his head a bit to see the flecks of amber shimmer in the dark. “Looks good on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smirks. “Would it look better with fangs?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They laugh, giving him a poke in his side. “Everything looks good on you.” They wind a strand of hair around their finger. “I like your accidental changes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And they mean that in the broadest sense of the word. Whether it’s his fangs coming out snarling when he’s angry, or his eyes changing halfway through a kiss, or his voice slipping into something like an animal’s whine in his sleep. It feels natural.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His expression shifts a bit as he listens to them, still thoughtful. "Sometimes..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He trails off and even after a moment’s silence he doesn’t resume, so they give a soft, prompting scratch at the base of his skull. "Sometimes what?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sometimes I wonder if that is the most….me.” He closes his eyes. “Somewhere just a step or two removed from the man, towards the wolf."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh?" That's not something he has ever said before. And he doesn’t even sound conflicted about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sous hums and tilts his head further into their touch, making them smile. They bury their left hand fully into his curls. His hair grows so fast. He had it cut only three weeks ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When his eyes open again they are even yellower than before. "That new occult book Parnasse found..." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah?" They gentle their touches just a little, he always ends up speaking in broken off sentences when they’re scratching him properly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It said something about - they can't prove a thing of course - but it claimed the infection only works on people who have a beast for it to latch onto in the first place. That that is why some people die of the fever."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faun's hands still completely for a moment, and they wind one of his curls thoughtfully around their finger. They are not quite looking at him, but he can see the questioning look in their eyes very clearly. "What about me?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their eyes meet his. "Do you think I have a beast?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smirks, snorting softly. "If that wild look in your eyes when you're having fun is anything to go on, yeah." Faun can be more feral than he is, everyone knows that, and the Patron-Minette has very little to do with that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The smile on Fauntleroy’s face is so damn pleased with themself that Claquesous can’t help but grin. His eyes are bright yellow right now, he can feel it, and somewhere something else shifts a little closer towards the wolf in him. Faun would make a </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful </span>
  </em>
  <span>wolf. They would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That is an odd thought. One he probably shouldn’t be thinking. But...he can trust the wolf. He can trust himself. Faun is in no danger of getting wounded. No danger of getting turned. They will not end up accidentally infected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks at their faintly smiling expression and takes in the wild glint buried deep in their eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He loves them so much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...and they </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>make a beautiful beast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy smiles, letting their hands slowly run through the length of Sous’ hair. He’s giving them that look again. They could bask in that look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a good theory,” they say lightly and they gather his hair together again, pulling it away from his neck. “I like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claquesous hums, slowly turning his head until he can kiss their left hand. His lips are warm. He always feels a couple degrees warmer than they do, no matter how flushed they feel. It’s wonderful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They hum back, teasingly tracing his cheeks and bottom lip with their thumb until he can’t resist anymore and one of his kisses turns into a nip at their fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fauntleroy grins at his flash of teeth. There's no way they would ever let some stupid fever do them in, not if the experience of running free beside him was on the other side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Claquesous asks, sighing slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” they say warmly. “I just love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His grin has just a touch of fangs. “We love you too.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I want to thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for reading and enjoying this little jaunt with us. These two have truly made themselves a special place in my life, and I'm glad we could share some of that with you. I've read every one of your comments, and I love them all. If you've been reading Claqueleroy before, I'm glad we were able get this written and posted for you. And if you're new, welcome to our little ship &lt;3</p>
<p>And thank you to Freckle for putting the ideas I chatter on about into an actual story. None of this would have happened at all if she wasn't kind and supportive and willing to put words together where I couldn't. She really is the backbone of this story and deserves so much credit. Also I promise to keep chattering at her and maybe inspire more things because I, too, need my Claqueleroy fix.</p>
<p>I love you all<br/>- Azura/Pippin</p>
<p>Azura's made me tongue-tied, so I'll just say this: I really hope this was as fun to read as it was to create 💜<br/>~ Freckle</p>
<p>PS. If any of you want a bonus snogging scene, come find me at mysunfreckle.tumblr and I'll send you the link~</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you were here for the whole of this incredibly niche experience: we treasure you &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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